The Right Dress
by vOceanic
Summary: (30 lemons! At least one per chapter!) The Summertide Ball is in three days, and the Institute scrambles to prepare itself with last minute decorations and fancy dress clothes. But Lux's, Ezreal's and everyone else's mind is spiraling out of control. Can the Champions regain their sexual sanity before they meet delegates from all of Runeterra? (Not canon with HaL or ATC).
1. The Right Fit

"I don't know, Kat. Lately Ezreal just seems less — interested than usual." Luxanna looked in the mirror and over her shoulder. Katarina du Couteau was sprawled out on her bed, a cherry lollipop tucked in between her crimson lips, her foot bobbing in time with the Pentakill ballad issuing from her earbuds. Her dark, tight jeans clung to her hips, her loose black t-shirt rolled up to expose her toned abs. Her ruby hair fanned out on the dark blue pillows, glittering in the low light. Outside, a soothing summer rain was falling from a soft gray sky.

She pulled a speaker out of her ear. "Were you saying something?"

"Yes," Lux huffed. She dragged the brush through her silky blonde hair again. She'd been longing for Ezreal to kiss it, stroke it or even pull it, but — "Ezreal's being distant and it worries me."

Katarina shrugged lazily, admiring the way Lux's taut ass looked in her capris. They were a bit sensible, but she made them look good. Had to be that military background. Luxanna Crownguard could definitely rock a General's uniform.

"Ez isn't Noxian. What do you expect? Pilts don't want to fuck all the time. Just most of the time."

"It's not like him, though," Lux murmured. She rolled pink lip gloss across her pale lower lip, then smacked them together. "Honestly, I'm worried about him and —"

Katarina groaned. "If the next word out of your mouth is 'Ryland,' I'm going to —

"Ryland," Lux finished. Her pale blue eyes widened. She'd lined them with dark brown. It was natural looking, but made her eyes sparkle. Her lashes were dark. She fluttered them. "You'll what?"

Kat said nothing, but swirled her tongue across the bright red candy contemplatively. She silently thanked Ezreal for not fucking his girlfriend for four days, for whatever reason. She had her suspicions — Ryland, too, had been prone to blushing lately. But the lack of fucking meant that Lux dressed extra cute, and Kat appreciated that.

The silky white bustier Lux had on was laced up with pink ribbons, matching the flower headband in her light blonde hair, as well as the amethysts dotting her earrings. The deep neckline showcased both of her breasts, a pure, soft, firm white.

Kat suddenly wanted to cover them with bruises. _If Ezreal's not gonna do it, someone has to, right? _

She looked up to see Lux's lips moving.

"I'm sorry. Were you talking again?"

Luxanna stomped her foot, scowling. "No one's paying attention to me!"

"That can change." Kat arched an eyebrow and patted the bed beside her. "Come here, princess."

She watched, bemused, as Lux shifted into a defensive posture. She glanced in the mirror again and swallowed hard. "I don't know about all that."

_Sure. Sure you don't. _Kat stopped herself from rolling her eyes. It was difficult. "You had fun the last four times, didn't you?"

Her cheekbones flushed faintly, then her throat, all the way down to her tits. Katarina guessed that the skin around her tiny, pert nipples was turning a rose color as well. Kat's jeans were suddenly too tight. But in a pleasant way. The pressure against her clit felt nice.

Lux saw Kat's eyes darken and lifted her chin defiantly. "It's a bad habit to get into."

_Sex. Sex is a bad habit to get into. Godsdamnit, Lux. Can you be any more Demacian? _

Kat shifted her weight. Inside her right ear, Pentakill was singing _You've got to feel it. The stars, the lights — the city's just right, tonight, for you and I… _It was one of her favorites. Ryland did a great cover of it.

"It'll make you feel better. Besides." Kat slipped the lollipop out of her mouth with a soft _pop_. "Guys like girls who experiment. I bet if you tell Ezreal about it he'll be yours to — do whatever the hell it is Demacians do in bed. Besides lay there and shiver."

"Hey." Lux squinted at her. "That's not nice."

"Doesn't bother me any. Ryland does the same thing." Kat grinned.

"So he likes it when you and I — sleep together?" She looked disgusted but fascinated. "Does he think about it when he — you know."

"Yeah, my boyfriend jacks off to us all the time. I could get him in here. Dunno which one of you'd be on bottom though." Kat snickered and patted the bed beside her again, putting the lollipop on the wrapper on her bedside table.

"Does he really? Think about us, I mean?" Lux took a few hesitant steps forward.

"Of course. A lot of people do."

"Really?" She edged nearer, looking away, out the window. Low-voiced thunder rumbled in the distance. Riven was clutching a black umbrella and running awkwardly towards Central Fountain. Her emerald dress swirled around her knees. Lux was wondering who she was going to meet when Katarina grabbed the straps of her bustier, pulled her close and kissed her.

The sugar coating of the lollipop hadn't dissolved from Katarina's lips and tongue. She hesitated, then licked it off of Kat's lower lip, felt her smile. The cherry was so sweet it burned the tip of her tongue.

Kat pulled her closer. Their breasts pressed against one another's, warm and somehow squishy and firm at the same time. She felt arousal flood her lower body — a tingling warmth — and flushed brighter. She was happy that Kat was so experienced. Gods knew she had no idea what she was doing.

The Noxian smelled like cinnamon and sex. Lux squeaked when Kat bit her lower lip, then flinched away when she bit it again.

"That hurts!" Only it sounded like _'at 'urts! _Because Katarina still hadn't let go. The assassin lapped the bead of blood off Lux's mouth and held her at arm's length. Her emerald eyes sparkled with lust and avarice.

"Are you really that much of a pansy? Really, Lux? You were in the army."

"Shut up," Lux said before she could think. Katarina laughed and pushed her onto the bed, nimble fingers pulling at the bustier she'd spent an hour lacing up. Luxanna squirmed and tried to push her away, but Kat only fought her. She peeled the cups away from Lux's breasts, revealing them. In the gray stormlight, her pink nipples lost their softness, then hardened into points. She blushed and turned away when Kat's tongue roamed across them, lightly sucking and nibbling. Lux heard herself moan and thought her skin was going to burn itself, she was blushing so hard.

Kat hovered above her. "Why are you always so embarrassed? You know this is normal, right?"

_Normal? _Lux thought distantly. She mewed softly when Kat bit the top of her right breast. It stung, left a small circlet of red-purple indentations. _Sex is between one man and one — woman — _She lost her train of thought when Kat shifted to her other breast. She met Lux's eyes then slowly rolled her tongue across her nipple. Her hand slid down her stomach, past where her tight capris nipped into her flesh. Lux's thighs pressed together when Kat's fingers slipped in between them.

"You're so fucking wet. It's actually ridiculous." She removed her fingers and held them before Lux. They glistened.

"Oh. I — I'm sorry."

Kat laughed and shook her head, saw the look on Lux's face and laughed harder. "Holy shit. You actually —"

"Shut up!" Lux snapped again. It seemed like all she could say when Kat was about to fuck her. It never failed to infuriate the assassin, who unbuttoned her capris with lightning speed and yanked them to Lux's knees.

"You first. One of these times I'm going to gag you." Her eyes gleamed as she slid her fingers up, then down the slick crease in between Lux's thighs.

"Please —" _don't, _is what Lux meant to say. But as the rain grew heavier, her moans grew louder. Katarina was flicking lightly at her now. Lux could feel how wet she was — the dampness was spreading between her thighs as she opened up beneath Katarina's caressing fingers. Her hand took up an insistent rhythm that Lux tried to resist, but couldn't. She panted, and Katarina's hand pressed against her collarbone.

The assassin paused.

"What —"

"Oh, I see. You want me to keep going now." Katarina fumbled about on her nightstand. "Gimme a sec. There's something I want to try."

Lux pulled her capris the rest of the way off and let them fall to a small heap beside the bed. Katarina pushed her back down, hand resting heavily on her stomach. She felt a small, wet slick object brushing against her clit, lightly at first, then harder. She bit her lip to stifle her moan — she didn't want Kat to laugh at her.

Kat squeezed her jaw. "Open your mouth."

"Wh - Why?"

The assassin slipped the lollipop past her lips, let Lux taste her own sweet fluid mingled with the cherry. Lux gasped and tried to pull away. But Kat was strong — the candy slid past her lips, lingering on the lower one, then going in and out, up and down her tongue. Kat's hand wandered between her lower lips again. There was a momentary sting as they pushed past the opening of her vagina. Then nothing but sweet pleasure, mingled warmth and bliss. Lux closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensation. The rain, the cherry, the smell of cinnamon, Kat's dexterous hands.

Then she heard the door open.

"Uhm." She opened her eyes to see Ezreal squinting at them. His lips were pressed tightly together. "Hmm."

"What's up, bitchboy?" Katarina grinned. Ezreal abruptly shut the door. "Guess he didn't want any."

"No! Kat!" Lux struggled, and Kat pinned her down again, chuckling. "Let go of m —"

Her words were cut off by startled moans. Kat had squeezed her clit between two of her fingers. Lux sank back into the pillows, shivering.

Kat watched her come, twirling a strand of red around her fingers, batting her eyelashes.

"Feel better, princess?"

"No! What's he going to think?"

Kat shrugged. "Oh well. Ta - aikah."

"What?"

"Nothing. Sometimes weird stuff just slips out, you know?" She snuggled close to Lux, purring, running a warm hand down her stomach, soothing her. "I'll let you go in a little bit. Let me enjoy you for a little while longer."

Lux lay there helplessly. She guessed, if nothing else, she was happy they were at the Institute and that she wasn't a prisoner of war. Though she almost felt like one.

* * *

Cross-legged and sitting beside a bubbling fountain beneath the silvery myth-tree, Ryland flipped through the _Piltover la Vie _catalogue's collection of silk ties. None of them — at all — were suitable for the Summertide Ball. There was one with red-orange slants that looked vaguely snakelike. One with purple squares. And one with blue roses called _En memoriam de Caelyn Falin. _

_Where the hell's the plain tie section? _He wondered, turning the catalogue upside-down and squinting at it. He didn't notice Sona admiring him from afar, chin in hand.

She was dressed in a green gown accented with ivory thread. It was bunched around her full breasts and clung to her luscious curves. She'd purchased it for the Summertide Ball, but decided she wanted something more elegant, and knew she'd have to choose soon. The Ball was in three days, after all. Still, she couldn't choose between dark purple and silver. She was planning to have Ryland help her choose, but he was occupied with his own attire.

So occupied that he didn't notice Ezreal at first.

The Explorer stood before him, wide-eyed. "Ryland."

"Yes?"

"Our girlfriends are fucking each other."

_Again? _Ryland thought, then sighed. He still hadn't told Ezreal. He wasn't sure why. "Interesting."

"I think Lux is gay." He looked more panicked than aroused, though the pupils in his oceanic blue eyes were wide and dark.

_Well, she thinks the same thing about you, so you're even. _He noticed Sona snicker silently and smiled. He had to be careful. Everyone in the Support Quarters was an Empath. "Ezreal. She's your girlfriend. Neither one of you are gay — you're dating each other."

"Katarina was fucking her with a lollipop," Ezreal whispered loudly.

Ryland put the catalogue over his face and groaned. "It's not my fault. I swear."

"What — why the hell would it be your fault?" Ezreal's eyebrows rose.

"I — uh. Never mind." Ryland took a deep breath. Now was not the time to tell Ezreal about his slipping Empath powers. It'd just panic him.

Besides, he hadn't noticed his own powers slipping at first, had he? Not until he saw Leblanc shove Talon against an alley wall and shove her tongue down his throat in broad daylight as he'd passed by, thinking of Ezreal and Katarina. He knew they were both Noxian, but — still.

Then there was the matter of Leona and Pantheon. The warrior had reached out and snatched a handful of Leona's ample derriere as Ryland strolled past, book of Noxian poetry in hand. He'd been distracted from Casteel White's loving, colorful description of the hills and dales of ancient Iso. Even more distracted when Pantheon's callused fingers had rubbed against Leona's thighs. Then they noticed him watching. He hurriedly buried his face in his book, blushing furiously.

There were others, too. Summoners hand in hand, smiling more broadly than usual. The red-haired Ionians wearing their tresses in tight braids. The Noxians smelling of violet perfume. Girls in shorter, flower-colored skirts. Bare shoulders, tight shorts.

Ryland's Empath powers were blooming. Among other things.

Unfortunately, Ezreal wasn't as stupid as he sometimes looked.

"What the fuck, Ryland?" Ezreal looked around frantically and leaned nearer. "Are you making our girlfriends fuck?"

"I don't know what you're —"

Ezreal tapped his temple. "Come on."

"I mean — maybe? I don't know."

Ezreal paused, then glanced at the tie collection before Ryland could hide it. "Summertide Ball?"

"Yep." Ryland blushed. "I — I'm used to — you know. Dressing up."

Ezreal ignored him. It was one thing they could never agree on — suits. "We've got to get to the bottom of this."

"I don't really see much mystery involved, to be quite hon —"

Ezreal dragged him by the elbow back towards his and Lux's room, where Kat and Lux still lie entwined.

_Godsdamnit, _Ryland thought. _What a time to be an Empath. _

He saw Sona wink at him as he passed by and shivered.

_What a time, _she thought to him. _What a time indeed. _


	2. The Geek

_N.B. I guess the term for this would be "mildly canon." Oh well._

* * *

Riven wasn't meeting anyone — _Celeste's Shoddery, _an Ionian specialty shoe shop, had paged her to let her know her brown strap pumps were finally in stock. She'd been waiting on the damn things for months. She had to know this instant if they actually matched her tan Summertide Ball dress or not. They were going to make or break her outfit.

She wasn't looking and ran full force into the Defender of Tomorrow, their umbrellas crashing together and spilling water on them both.

"Ah, fuck." Jayce's groceries toppled to the rain-sodden concrete. "There goes the arugula."

Riven had no response. She could only stare and gape.

The rain had slipped beneath Jayce's fancy gray umbrella, pasting his white shirt to his broad shoulders and lean, taut stomach. She watched a few drops roll off his jaw and onto the ground. His dark hair was damp with sweat and moisture.

His huge hand rested on his umbrella handle as he bent to pick up his bag. Riven spotted noodles, fresh tomatoes, and a plastic container of garlic. He glanced up at her, and she blushed warmly. "I — I've got to go."

"Well, alright then. Have a nice d—"

She darted off before he could finish, stumbling over Kog'Maw, who was contentedly oozing into the rain and picking his nose with his claw. He looked after her curiously and wagged his tail.

Jayce watched her run. _And Noxians say Pilts are the weird ones. _He had no idea what Riven's background was, but had heard something vague about a broken sword and Noxus. Or some shit. He didn't really care.

He shook his head and rebalanced his groceries. In his room, a half-naked Caitlyn was asleep, nose buried in his maroon-striped, cologne-scented pillows. Their sex earlier this afternoon had been surprisingly violent — it was the first time she'd ever cuffed him to the bed.

But this time he intended to take things sweet and slow. Wine, candlelight. The ballads from the Noxian opera _Demetrius & Caelyn _playing softly in the background.

He hummed a ballad to himself as he walked back, passing Zyra in a neon blue bikini that clashed with her leafy appendages, just soaking up the rain with a blissful smile on her face.

_Wait. Does she ever wear clothes any other time? _He wondered. _What the fuck? _

Then he lost himself in the Noxian melody.

CAELYN: _My heart lies within your palm. Take it, I beg, my greatest gift to you — yours to keep or shatter, both. This I swear, the fire's oath. _

Jayce paused. _Damn. The Noxians really are weird. _

He pushed the door to the Ivory Quarters open. Diana was curled up in a plushy black recliner, the long history of the Solari open on her lap. She nodded to him as he passed, and Jayce found himself admiring her thick thighs. He forced himself to stop.

_Come on, Jayce. Two more steps. You can do this. _

He opened the door to his half-lit suite and called mockingly, "Honey, I'm home!"

"Quit that." Caitlyn appeared in the entrance to his room, leaning against the doorway. Her chestnut hair was freshly washed and fell past her breasts. She was in her favorite underwear — Jayce's too. A soft, white lacy pair as fragile as feathers. She squinted at him. "Is that food?"

"Not yet. Go lay back down."

She ignored him as he laid out the ingredients, got a pot of water to boil. She pressed her bare breasts against his side, grinning, as he sliced the tomatoes. "No time to waste."

"Are you on the case?" Jayce muttered sarcastically. The water was taking forever to boil, and Caitlyn was kneading his erection. His hips were still a bit sore from earlier, but the pain was sweet. He stifled a moan as she teased the tip of his dick through his jeans. "You're going to make me burn something."

"I don't really mind." She squeezed his shaft, and he gasped.

"Cait — I was trying to be romantic. Don't women always complain that guys aren't romantic?"

She didn't answer, instead shoving him against the wall. She pulled his rain-damp hands to her ass and made him squeeze her firm cheeks. He lifted her upwards so that the warmth radiating from her underwear was directly over his cock. He thought dimly that he was falling into her warm amber eyes

She winked playfully. "Kiss the cook, right?"

"I gue —"

She didn't let him finish.

Neither did the smoke alarm.

_WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP _

Caitlyn stumbled backwards, knocked into the pan handle. The Defender, for all his brains, had forgotten to put the handle to the side. The hot water spilled onto the stove with a blistering crackle, then spattered around his feet. He leapt backwards with a cry of surprise. Within moments, the Summoners' Safety Squad charged into the suite, long, snaking water hose upraised.

They stared at Jayce's mussed hair and Caitlyn's disheveled near-nudity and began to laugh.

* * *

"Ez, slow down!"

"This is a very serious matter."

"Why?" Ryland panted, brushing his black hair out of his face.

"Hello?" Ezreal whirled to stare at him. "Your girlfriend is fucking someone else and you don't care?"

"Um." Ryland remembered, briefly, the Summoner named Verenia he and Katarina had shared not too long ago. Or rather, they had shared him. Katarina had made the gorgeous purple-eyed Zaunian girl deep-throat him, pushing on the back of her throat and watching Ryland bite his lip to keep from moaning. Kat tickled him whenever he moaned.

"Ryland? Did I lose you?" Ezreal's blue eyes glittered with worry.

"Wh — no. Not a Fugue. Just — Kat's Noxian, and I —"

"Shhh." Ezreal clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him beside his and Lux's bedroom door. "Quiet."

_You want us to sneak up on them? _He thought to Ezreal with a grimace.

_Duh. We've got to catch them in their natural habitat. Like animals. _The idea filled him with unwholesome excitement.

Ryland groaned softly as Ezreal threw open the door.

But Lux and Kat were fully clothed, sitting next to one another, glossy fashion magazines open to the ball gown sections spread across their laps. Lux's headband was slightly mussed, but other than that, they were fine. They looked up at Ezreal and Ryland calmly.

"Yes?" Lux asked politely.

"Weren't you two just having sex?" Ezreal's eyes narrowed.

_Straight to the point, as always. _Ryland shook his head. Sometimes he wished the Explorer was slightly more tactful.

"Who, me? No. Of course not." Katarina's voice dripped sarcasm. Ryland scowled at her, and she scowled right back.

"Ezreal." Lux's eyes widened. "Why would I ever do such a thing? I would never."

"Really?" Ezreal nibbled his thumbnail and glanced at Ryland. "That's interesting. I must've had one hell of a hallucination, then."

"It's possible. There's been something pretty strange in the air lately." Katarina shot a pointed look at Ryland, who flinched backwards.

_Why are you looking at me? _

_You look delicious. _

_Um. _Ryland looked down at his clothes. Standard healer attire — a white shirt, dark jeans. Plain and comfortable. _Thanks? _

Ezreal cleared his throat. "Want to go get a root beer float, Lux? I know it's raining, but I can find us an umbrella."

"Sure!" Lux got to her feet, bright-eyed. Katarina was right. Sex really did fix everything. She giggled as she took Ezreal's wrist. Her smile brightened even more when he nuzzled her cheek, paused, then nipped her jaw.

"_Ahem,_" Ryland coughed. _Oh my gods. What have I done? _

"Oh, sorry. Come on, Lux." Ezreal wrapped a strong arm around her waist and pulled her close. "You smell really nice. Like — is that cinnamon?"

Lux's cheeks flushed brilliantly. It was Kat's perfume. "Maybe."

Ryland watched the pair of them leave, then turned back to Katarina. Her eyes were already gleaming. He resigned himself to the inevitable seduction, if her rough hands and almost-frantic kisses could be called that.

"Kat? What was that?"

"The princess needed some love."

"Why's she pretending it didn't happen?"

"She's trying to be mysterious." Kat winked. "I loosened her up for him."

"Ugh." Ryland shook his head as Katarina neared him and kissed his throat. He could smell Lux on her and hated it. It had to be a genetic thing — Noxian and Demacian. "That's disgusting."

"Oh, hush. You're just jealous." She kissed him eagerly, showing none of the restraint she had with Lux. Ryland didn't flinch when she bit his bottom lip, or when she sank her teeth into the delicate spot beneath his jaw. She had to bite deeply enough to draw blood before he sighed and shifted his body to accommodate her curves.

Something about Ryland drove her absolutely crazy. She was infamous for never dating a guy for more than a month, and here she and Ryland were, half a year and still going strong. She bit him again, then sucked the skin until he shivered.

"Stop it. I have healer stuff to do."

"Mhm. Not until I say you do." She led him to the bed.

"Wait. Kat. Isn't this Lux and Ezreal's room?"

"So?" She straddled him, squeezing her thighs together atop his bony hips, running her delicate fingertips up and down his shaft until he was swollen and hard.

He sighed deeply, buried his face in Ezreal's pillow. _I just want to cuddle. _

"Shut the fuck up." She slapped him.

"I didn't say any —"

"Shhhhh." She kissed him, jammed her tongue deep into his warm, unresisting mouth, enjoying the feeling of him writhing beneath her. Sex made him uncomfortable, no matter how much of it they had. She'd asked him about it one time and heard him mutter _Oliver _under his breath. Whoever that guy was, she owed him a beer for making Ryland so sweet and gentle. "You know you like it."

He shuddered as she unzipped his fly and wrested his cock from his jeans. He was so long. And thick. It was perfect. She sucked on it, her tongue playing across the head of his throbbing dick, relishing the sweetness. Every part of him was sweet.

He tried to lose himself in the pleasure, but the bitter scent of Lux's sex was distracting him. That, and the concern in Ezreal's blue eyes. _I hope I'm not messing anything up. Peoples' emotions are bad things to play with. _

"Pay attention." Kat gazed at him. Her eyes were huge and dark. Outside, thunder cracked loudly. "You know you're the only guy geeky enough to get his dick sucked and still think?"

"I'm not a geek." He tried to bury his face deeper in Ezreal's pillow, but she grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at her.

"Yes you are. You're pathetic."

"Stop it." He shivered as she squeezed him. He watched her delicate fingers slide down his length, then back up again. He felt his face warm.

"Useless," she purred. Her tongue lapped his earlobe. She only brought out the insults when he was being bad — not paying attention, not being obedient. He struggled briefly, then succumbed to her. He gritted his teeth when she rubbed her sex against him. She did so, slowly, inexorably, until he was moaning behind tightly closed lips. "Mhm."

_I still just want to cuddle, _Ryland thought distantly. But Kat had a way of making people lose their trains of thought. Kat pulled her pants off and pushed him deep inside of her, sliding down his dick until their bare stomachs met.

She knew he wanted her to be gentle, so sometimes she was. She kissed him lightly, over and over again, until his moans rivaled the thundering rain.

Soraka and Sona leaned against Ezreal and Lux's door and pressed their ears to it. Their eyes met, gold to deep brown.

_She's hurting him, _Sona thought and went to open the door. Soraka grabbed her elbow and firmly shook her head.

_We must let nature take its course. _

_Yes, but must it be that loud? _Sona thought to herself. She felt lust burn her own cheeks and fought it down. She thought the most perverse part of it all was how Kat showed off.

There was no need to make the others jealous.


	3. Lux and the Alleyway

_N.B. The goal of at least one lemon per chapter continues. Any champion requests? _

Ezreal struggled to hold their umbrella steady. Despite his best efforts, the thundering summer rain had showered beneath its edges and dampened and darkened the cuffs of Lux's capris, splashing her strong, slim ankles. Part of the reason he was having such a difficult time fighting the umbrella was his admiration of Lux.

She was radiant against the muted, hazy gray twilight edging over the Institute. In the lambent orange glow of the electric street lamps, her blonde hair glittered with diamond beads of rain. The pink ribbon running alongside her bustier had come undone, but he didn't say anything. He liked the way it trailed behind her — just a touch of imperfection to remind him that, beneath her royal demeanor, Lux was a real woman. And his.

She glanced at him, saw his admiration, and cheered inside herself. On the outside, she sniffed haughtily and patted her headband back into the correct position. "Why were you looking for me earlier, anyway?"

"Ah. Um." He struggled to remember. Her pearly smile made his knees weaken. _Oh. The poem._ He had a poem dedicated to her being published next month in _Piltover Monthly Review_.But he was suddenly unsure if he wanted to give away his secret. Not when she was holding one of her own. "Lux — are you sure you weren't sleeping with Katarina earlier? I wouldn't — you know. I wouldn't judge."

"You sure? That'd be the kind of thing I'd judge." They stepped around Twisted Fate and Evelynn, both couples nodding at one another. They were cloaked in shadows, but the winking light flickering at the end of Fate's cigarette illuminated his chiseled features and Evelynn's rounded cheeks.

"Would it?"

"Not if you were sleeping with another girl, per se. I mean I would but —" She flushed slightly.

"Yes?"

"But — well, Demacia has strong language about homosexuality."

Ezreal groaned internally, and winced when he stepped boot-deep into a chilly puddle. "This isn't about Ryland again, is it?"

"No, of course not," Lux lied, and looked away. She was deeply concerned about the effect the Noxian Empath sorcerer was having on her soulmate.

She had confessed to Katarina that part of the problem lay within herself. Despite being a renowned Demacian General, she was insecure. She didn't think she was pretty enough. Not for someone as brilliant and famous as Ezreal.

It was true — he wasn't nearly as unapproachable as she'd thought he was. But —

She peered at him beneath her long lashes. He was staring ahead, lost in thought as he often was. _He's more handsome than Saint Garamond. The blue of his eyes reminds me of the ocean trips I took in my childhood. And I know he hates how thin his shoulders are, but I like them. I like how lean he is. And his hair — _

The gold was richer, fuller, deeper than the lighter Demacian tresses she was used to, regal even in the stormlight. She watched, fascinated, as a golden spark traced the outline of one of the triangular scars on his cheekbones. It echoed the lightning that twinkled briefly above them. The storm could make him Overflow if he wasn't careful.

_And he's mysterious. _

That mystery drew her towards him, but also pushed her away. He was impossible to read, even by Demacian standards.

Lux sighed deeply. She blinked in surprise when Ezreal squeezed her arm.

"You okay?"

"Just thinking."

He flicked the tip of her nose. "Stop it. It just makes things suck."

"Isn't that a weird point of view for an anthropologist to have?" She shivered lightly as Central Fountain's frigid airconditioning blasted them both. She spotted Varus and Talon hiding in the shadows, drinking mango smoothies and debating the merits of corruption.

Despite the late hour and storm, the mall was packed. The Summoners jostled around them, taking long, long looks at her and Ezreal. But Lux had gotten used to the attention.

Ezreal grinned. "If I wanted to think all the time, I wouldn't hang out with you."

"Um." She squinted at him, but he was scanning the crowd before them. After the attacks on the Institute, he'd become very protective. _I guess that's supposed to be a compliment. _He could be so — abrasive.

She forgot it as he bought a root beer float as tall as her forearm and stuck two straws deep inside it. They curled up in a booth in the back of the food court, sipping at it contentedly.

He wiped his lips. "Speaking of thinking. Have you decided what gown to wear to the Summertide Ball? I have to match my tie and get you a corsage."

"When is that?" She asked, only paying half attention. She was distracted by the sweet foam clinging to the bottom of his mouth.

"Three days from now. Well, two, since today's almost over."

She froze and stared at him with wide blue eyes. "What?"

"Lux. Come on." He squeezed her wrist and shook his head. "I'm totally out of it half the time and even I knew when it was."

She blushed. "I must've misplaced the invitation. Why didn't Kat tell me?"

"Why? Because it's such a huge deal and literally everyone is talking about it. She just assumed. You and I are really important, too. We're supposed to convince the new Summoners that the League isn't political anymore."

She turned crimson. "Oh."

"Yeah. I'm even getting dressed up for you." He paused. "So I take it that's a no, you haven't picked a gown yet?"

"No, I haven't. But it's no big deal. I'll probably go with dark blue —"

He sighed heavily. "Of course."

"Of course? What do you mean _of course_?" Her blush deepened.

"It's just — I dunno, Lux." He leaned forward and took a deep drink of the float. "You're always in dark blue. You look wonderful, but —"

"But?"

"You could afford to mix it up, you know?"

She stared at him and felt the beginnings of anger. "Anything else while we're at it? Should I cut my hair? Paint my nails neon orange?"

He leaned on his elbow. His blue eyes were deep, hypnotic. "I'm only saying it because I think you'd look beautiful in emerald. Or violet. Especially with your eyes."

_Godsdamnit, Ezreal. Just let me be mad at you. _She sighed, the strength leaving her body. "Fine."

"Cheer up." He leaned over the table and kissed her, squeezing her knee with his strong, rough hand. Despite her earlier encounter with Katarina, she found her body responding. The bitter rain and the sugar from the vanilla ice cream blended into a spicy, exotic flavor.

_Mix it up? Maybe he's bored with me. In more ways than just the dress. _

Worried, Lux ran the delicate tip of her tongue across his lower lip the way Katarina did to her. Maybe it would work.

But Ezreal pulled away with a sigh.

"What's wrong now?" _My gods. Is he going to break up with me? _

"I'm exhausted." His smile was indeed tired. "Fifteen matches on the Rift today with Ryland and I hanging out in between."

Lux's fingernails cut into her palms. "Oh. I see."

Weary as he was, he caught the bitter shift in tone. "Come on, Lux. Don't be like that."

She huffed. "I'm trying. You're not making it easy. That's for sure."

He shook his head. "Not in the mood."

"I noticed," she said under her breath. When he got up to leave, still shaking his head, she suddenly panicked. _I can't let him break up with me. _She took him by the wrist and pulled him down beside her. _That's it. I've got to channel my inner Katarina. _

She crawled onto the other side of him, then pushed on his shoulders and pressed his back against the wall. She saw the people in the booth behind them glance over. Her cheeks warmed, but she kept going. She kissed him hard, cupping his chin. When he tried to pull away, she squeezed his jaw.

_Oh gods this is so weird. How does Kat pull this off when Ryland's taller than her? _She had to shift her body and ended up crouched over him on her hands and knees. The booth table was pressed against her ribs. A tight spot. Her bustier-cupped breasts rested against his nose.

"Um." He cocked his head, curious, but not alarmed. "What are you doing?"

"Shhhh." She couldn't bring herself to say _shut up _like Kat usually did. She had the strange feeling Ezreal would laugh at her, instead of going all quiet and submissive the way Ryland did. She buried her fingers in his thick golden hair and pulled on it, tilting his head back. Then she let her tongue push past his bottom lip.

His kisses seemed to ignite her. They were rough and burning. Passionate, the way they always were. His fingers laced around the small of her back. Then he hesitated, let a hand roam to her right ass cheek. He squeezed it. She gasped.

She pulled away, blond hair dangling between them. "What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing?" His eye shone with humor. A few of the bolder male Summoners from Piltover had experimental recording devices out. Others were excitedly whispering and smirking. "You're the one molesting me."

She came to her senses. "We've got to get out of here. Before Zandred finds out." The Venerable Summoner wouldn't be happy to hear about the Explorer and General fornicating in a food court booth.

He nodded swiftly and pulled her to her feet. They pushed past the grinning Summoners, past the sea of gleaming eyes and knowing smiles. She detected jealousy on a few of the women's faces.

Then they were outside. The rain had slowed down. The air was still humid, as if holding its breath, and the frogs were almost deafening.

She squeezed his hand tight and dragged him into an alley before her courage failed her. _My gods, if the army hears about this, I'm going to get excommunicated. _

But how could she possibly resist? She always forgot he was younger than her, until he looked up at her with his wide, innocent blue eyes.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

She got on her knees. The chilly rain seeped through her capris, and the hard cobblestone of the alley hurt her knees. Sweat from the thick, humid air slicked her silky blonde hair to the sides of her face. Still, she fumbled for Ezreal's zipper and was relieved to find that his dick was already hot and swollen. He guided it from his blue-plaid boxers into her mouth without another word, then leaned back against Central Fountain's wall with a sigh.

He smiled. "I didn't realize you were such a slut."

Indignant, she tried to pull away, but the hand on the back of her neck kept her mouth firmly around his cock. He pushed forward slightly. His head lingered right on the slick boundary of her tongue and the back of her throat. Any farther and she'd choke.

_This is so humiliating. _She paused, then sucked harder. His fingertips dug into her soft skin. His breath quickened. _Is that the point? _

She had to use both hands to steady herself, crouched as she was on her hands and knees. So he squeezed her neck and steadily stroked himself, ignoring the way she began to squirm when her jaw ached.

"Stop. You started it, didn't you?" His voice was softly chiding. She flushed brighter.

_He shouldn't talk to a Demacian General that way. _

But she had no time to think. His orgasm made him swell, seem to almost fill up her entire mouth. His breath was steamy and ragged. She blinked in surprise, then flinched as his come spurted down her throat. His firm hand held her steady, kept her unmoving until his muscles were done clenching, and didn't let her go until she swallowed.

He helped her to her feet. His dazzling smile cut through the gray dizziness and faint confusion. _What the hell was I thinking? This is going to be all over the Institute. _

But she could tell from Ezreal's somehow childish hug that he didn't care. He nuzzled her neck, stroking her hair. His body was warm against hers, sticky with sweat. His affection was suddenly overwhelming.

"Love you."

She took a deep breath, and the last few drops of root-beer flavored come trickled down her throat. She coughed. "Love you too."


	4. Arrhythmia

_N.B. You've all got some awesome ideas! Also, M x M never goes farther than blowjobs, if it even gets that far. _A True Champion _should pick back up after finals week. It was just a bit too much tragedy to handle at once. _

_If you're taking tests and finals, I wish you the best of luck from the very bottom of my lemon-filled heart. _

_-vO_

* * *

Erinae leaned back to survey her handiwork. She harrumphed. "Alright. Now kiss him."

"But why?" Josh, nicknamed Jatt, squirmed against his bindings. The gangly, elfin-eared, dark-eyed Bilgewater orphan looked honestly confused, but that was nothing new.

Erinae scowled at him. "Because I fucking said so, dumbass."

Davin, nicknamed Turley, nodded. His gray-green eyes were wide. He shook his sandy blonde hair out of his face. "We should just do what she says."

"But it's gay!"

"It's not gay." Davin scooted as best he could to his best friend. His arms and legs were tied together, as were Josh's. "There's a girl here."

"Is that really how it works?" Josh's eyes darted to Davin's lips. He swallowed nervously.

"Yep. Besides. We can keep it a secret." Before Josh could argue, Davin brushed his lips over his. He paused. "Woah. That actually feels kinda good."

"Then do it more." Erinae's golden eyes flashed.

Josh kissed Davin back hesitantly, then closed his eyes. His best friend moaned quietly and relaxed against the couch in Zandred's office, and Josh kissed him harder. Soon the two awkward-limbed teenage boys were both weak and tingly.

_Should tie the two idgits together, _Erinae thought, nibbling her thumbnail. She was out of rope, but there was a roll of dusty duct tape in Zandred's desk drawer she was sure the Venerable Summoner wouldn't miss.

She was working up her courage to sneak past him and get it when there was a knock on the door.

"Shit," she hissed. "Shit, shit, shit."

Josh and Davin, never the most observant of people, kept making out, blissfully oblivious. Erinae's werecat eyes darted around the room until they settled on a tablecloth. She snatched it out from under the candy dishes and Ionian nutcrackers, shoved Davin on top of Josh and covered them with it.

Then she sat on them.

"Don't fucking move," she said from the corner of her mouth. "I got this."

Josh's voice was muffled. "So do you want us to keep making out or —"

"Shhhhh!" She cleared her throat and smoothed her short blonde hair. "Yes?"

Zandred came in, looking tired and rubbing at his eyes. The Venerable Summoner felt that there was something strange going on at the Institute and could think of no one better to ask than his apprentice.

He had seen Quinn and Garen from his office window, strolling together in the moonlight. Not that he had been watching or anything (oh, gods, of course not), he somehow happened to notice Garen pull the timid scout close, then roughly slide her hand to an area of his lower body Zandred generally associated with trouble. It was mighty interesting because Quinn had famously taken the vow of Demacian chastity in honor of her dead brother, and — not that Zandred was looking — her promise ring was missing.

Zandred was actually relieved the ring was gone. He watched the finger it should've been gracing slide up and down Garen's — well.

He had been on the verge of loudly clearing his throat when a disheveled Lux and a grinning Ezreal happened to pass by. Garen's attention snapped to his sister. The two Demacian Generals shared a look of mutual horror.

"What are you doing?" Garen had hissed to his sister.

She glared at him, and Ezreal's smile widened. Ezreal, Zandred often thought, was a sick young man. He got off on seeing other people upset. But no one ever believed Zandred when he muttered this, because Ezreal's smile was so damn charming.

"What are _you _doing, Garen?"

It was at this point Zandred had gotten up to find Erinae. He knew what all of them were doing and didn't want to.

In the present he closed his eyes. "Erinae, I've got a question."

"That tickles, Josh," Davin breathed. Josh tried not to giggle. Erinae slowly moved her hand until she was squeezing Davin's earlobe.

"What's up, Zandy?"

He blinked at the nickname. "Have you noticed anything odd going on? At the Institute, I mean?"

"We've got a place full of freaky Void dudes and Noxians, sir." She shifted. Her hand was now on Josh's throbbing boner. Both boys were quivering. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Well." Zandred sighed heavily. "I suppose you're old enough. Is there anything happening sexually?"

Her golden eyes widened. "No, sir, but I can make it happen."

He paused, gray eyebrows knitting together. "I'd prefer if you didn't. You see, we've got the delegates coming from all over Runeterra —"

"Coming," Josh whispered. The boys both snickered. Erinae tried to kick them and failed.

Zandred tilted his head. "Are you alright, Erinae? You're fidgety."

"Who, me? I'm totally fine. One-hundred-thirty-two percent."

Zandred eyed her. "I'll — leave you, then. Let me know if you notice anything."

"You bet your sweet ass I will. Erm, sorry." She blushed. "The slang —"

"It's quite alright."

She waited until the door closed behind him, then pulled the tablecloth off the top of their heads. They grinned up at her, hair mussed. "You two would be the worst fucking spies in the entire godsdamned world, you know that shit? Yeah, Zandred's really gonna believe he's got a giggling couch. Fucking —"

"Don't worry, Erinae." Davin smiled reassuringly. He and Josh adored their weird friend. They often told the other Novices they had a girlfriend. Technically they weren't wrong.

"Fucking dipstick," she muttered. "Which one of you ignorant sluts wants to be on bottom?"

"Well, Josh sort of already is." Davin shot him a knowing look.

"No I'm not." He blinked. "Wait. Yes I am."

"Fucking stupid." Erinae rolled her eyes, sat beside them and squeezed Josh's dick. He gasped. "Shut up, dummy! Geez!" She squeezed harder, frustrated, then kneaded it. Davin's cock stiffened on the other side of her hand. She slid her fingers between both of them, up and down, loving the feeling of them shifting around her. They kept trying to spread their legs but couldn't because they were tied together too tightly. The friction and heat were immense. Josh whimpered.

At one point Erinae huffed. "You're supposed to keep making out. Haven't you done this shit before?"

"No." Davin swallowed, then brushed his lips over Josh's again. They kissed until Erinae's hand got both of them gasping at the same time. She pulled Davin off of Josh and yanked Josh's jeans down, then discarded her own brief pajama shorts. She climbed on top of him as Davin watched, blushing furiously.

Josh's Adam's apple bobbed. "Erin, I don't know if —"

"Shut up, stupid." She shoved his dick inside of her, then slid up and down it slowly a few times, making sure it was good and wet. He flushed clear down to his top rib, almost too shocked to enjoy it. Almost. She rode him, squeezing the sides of his face with her petite hands, snickering when he started to moan. Then she held the head of his dick at the tight opening of her girlhood and jacked him off until he came.

_One down. _She pushed him onto the floor and turned her attention to Davin, who was both afraid and aroused. Erinae's golden eyes were glowing. He and his best friend knew, of course, that their other friend wasn't totally human, but —

He forgot it as she pawed his dick free from his pants and forced him to sit up. Then she glared up at him.

"You want me to?"

"I —"

"Yes or no, fuckass."

"I —"

"Never mind." She rubbed her cupid's bow lips across the shaft of his dick, gently, then more insistently. Then she sucked the whole thing into her mouth and tried not to laugh when he cried out. She didn't hear Zandred open the door or see his eyebrows rise at the tied up, vulnerable boys.

Josh blinked up at the Venerable Summoner like an owl.

"Well," Zandred sighed. "I guess that answers that one."

He shut the door again as Davin's thighs closed together. His head was tilted back, his cheeks and throat a scalding red. He bit his lip as the orgasm shook through him. Sex was great, he thought. Way better than jacking off, though they were both fun.

Erinae wiped her lips and immediately set to work sawing through the ropes with her abnormally sharp fingernails. Her fangs were showing, but she was still somehow businesslike. "You two are free. For now."

Josh and Davin exchanged glances, then embarrassed smiles. _For now _didn't sound that bad.

* * *

Soraka met Nami's calm eyes. "It's quite clear that they're the source of it. We can all feel it."

"But what do we do?" Nami's fin swished uneasily. "Ryland's convinced he's a healer. That's why he hasn't been — pleasuring himself." The pale, glittering scales on her stomach flushed a dull ruby.

Soraka nodded and sighed. "There are actions to take. I am just unsure of how well the other healers are going to perceive them."

Nami took her hands. "Your motto is 'We do what we must.' I know Janna will bitch — pardon me, complain — at first, but I won't judge them. I know Taric is unaffected. Lulu could care less. But we need to act quickly or —"

Soraka sighed again and kneaded her temples. "Ezreal is unsurprising, but I find it strange that our strongest healer is one with unusually strong appetites. Perhaps we don't understand the correlation between sexual energy and healing after all."

"But at this point," Nami said, knitting her fingers together. The idea of Ryland being fucked by Sona and Karma was exciting. She would've joined in, but as freaky and Noxian as Ryland was, she didn't know how much he'd enjoy the mermaid thing. "At this point it's damaging the Institute. We have countries to impress."

"So when?" Soraka's eyes took on a distant look, but she wasn't able to hide her eagerness any more than Nami was. Her hands were kneading one another.

"Tomorrow. I think tomorrow would work."

"So Janna for Ezreal. And who for Ryland?"

"Sona can take care of Ryland," Nami said firmly. "Sona and Karma. He's fragile, so —"

"So Sona's compassion may work. Her attitude and Karma's gentleness." Soraka shook her head. "I do not care to blur the relationship between teacher and student, so I will remain mostly uninvolved."

"I don't blame you." Nami tried not to smile. "Though I admire your restraint."

Soraka swatted her with a small grin that broke the mask of airy detachment she usually wore. She managed to restrain her schoolgirlish laugh, but only with great effort.

* * *

Ryland always felt the need to atone after sleeping with Kat. It felt right — like he deserved to be hurt — but also dirty.

He weeded around the silver, humming myth-tree, then trimmed back the thorns on the blue roses. Soon he had worked up a sweat, though it was pitch-black outside and he should've been saying his evening prayers and going to sleep.

He looked up to find Sona watching him from a balcony and fanning herself. At his attention she shifted her gaze back to the open romance on her lap, then lifted the book up until it shielded her eyes.

His Noxian night-vision was sharpened by the dimness. He could see that the cover featured a Demacian knight on a white steed prancing through sunny fields.

Ryland groaned softly — he could also see Sona's peachy nipples through her silky nightgown. And he could feel her lust, even if she hid her face.

A thought struck him, brought on by the book cover. Sona was well-known for almost marrying Garamond d'Taglier, Demacia's most famous battle saint. Unfortunately, after their years-long courtship, the man had taken the vow of Demacian chastity. And promptly been slaughtered by fifteen-year-old Caelyn Falin. A Noxian General who, if one could tell by the way he constantly loved on his master Demetrius, cared as little about chastity as he did innocent Demacian lives.

But still, Sona had slept with the saint. _Ha, _Ryland thought, pausing in his yardwork. _I bet a Noxian king could show her a few things a Demacian saint sure couldn't. _He had a vivid mental image of Sona's creamy thighs quivering beneath his fingertips, her large bosom heaving with silent pleasure, and stopped himself. _What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm not the king. I'm a healer. _

He glanced up again. Sona was openly staring at him. Her round cheeks were the faint pink of springtide rose petals. Her hands were clenched in her lap.

_I don't know why they let me stay here, _Ryland thought unhappily. He swiped sweat from his forehead. _I'm going to mess everything up._

Take the bathing, for example. To promote harmony, the Supports bathed nude together sometimes. And Ryland had never — well, almost never gotten an erection.

But he always did when Karma helped Sona wash her back. There was something about those chocolaty, velvety Ionian hands sliding across Sona's pale, silky skin that stuck with him even during meditation. They were both always covered in suds and flushed pink from the hot water.

Part of it was the tenderness. Karma often nuzzled Sona's cheek while she lathered her, her pert, glistening breasts smushed against Sona's soft shoulders. Ryland longed to be wedged tightly between them both, slippery with soap, their firm curves pressed against his bony body, their nimble fingers stroking his cheekbones and possibly his dick.

But on a deeper level, Ryland simply yearned for someone to touch him gently like that.

Still. Katarina felt right. Like he deserved it.

He was so startled by Ezreal's sudden appearance that he almost snipped a finger off with the gardening shears.

"Ez. You scared the sh - the crap out of me." Healers weren't supposed to swear.

Ez ignored him and leaned in. His scars twinkled. "Ryland. I don't know what you're doing, but keep it up."

"What are you talking about?"

His voice got even softer. The unholy excitement gleaming in his blue eyes made Ryland uncomfortable. "Lux gave me head in an alleyway. After she was mad at me. That's probably not a big deal to you —"

"Uhm."

"But Lux isn't a freak like Kat is."

"Why was she mad?"

"Because she hasn't picked a dress yet and —"

"She hasn't picked a dress?" Ryland stared at him. "We're meeting emissaries from every country. In two days. What is she thinking?"

Ezreal backed away, trying not to laugh. "I'm trying to tell you a sex story and you're worried about the dress? Are you sure you're not —"

"I'm not gay." Ryland's voice rang through the Supports' Atrium. The healers' heads all snapped up to look at him, then away. He blushed. "Ez —"

"But Lux was mad about that too." He paused. "You think she's still mad about the Stress Game?"

Ryland froze. "You think she might be?"

"Well, that's the only thing I can think of as evidence for you and I — being together. You know? Two days ago."

The Stress Game, also known as Ryland's Weakest Moments.

He and Ezreal had arrhythmia. Their hearts both beat irregularly when they were excited or scared. It was harmless, so far as they could tell, though both of theirs was pretty bad.

So they said weird shit to stress each other out until their hearts faltered. It was fucked up, but so were a lot of things. And so was the Stress Game.

Ryland won sometimes. "_Vivisection _is the process of slicing a live animal into thin slices. You start from the bottom up to prevent it from dying while you study its internal mechanisms." That had gotten him a punch on the shoulder and a look of disgust. When he slapped his hand over Ezreal's chest, the Explorer's heart was fluttering like a hummingbird's.

_T - t - t - t - thud._

But Ezreal usually won. While lying beside Ryland one day, he'd crossed his legs and said casually, "Yeah, I think destroying the universe might be fun. Get to blow the sky apart. Get the planets to smash together and crack. Oceans boil. Watch everything burn. Everyone die."

And not only had Ryland's heart seized. He was unable to breathe for three or four minutes. "Ezreal _what the fuck?_"

The Explorer searched for Ryland's pulse and found it on his neck, probing it with two rough fingers. His eyes were gleaming a deep, stormy blue.

_Thud. Th - thud. Thud-thud. Th - th - th._

He grinned and whispered through their mental link _Got you. _

_Not funny. _Ryland squeezed Ezreal's shoulder and waited for the numbness in his chest to go away. _You destroying the universe isn't funny at all._

They had no idea. None at all.

But anyways. Two afternoons ago, after Ezreal fought with Lux and Ryland fought with Kat, they were lying beside each other and Ryland's hand crept, of its own volition, to the nape of Ezreal's neck. Ezreal's blue eyes flicked from the treatise on Shurimanan artifacts to Ryland's gray-green ones.

"What are you doing?"

"Why?" Ryland felt himself smile mischievously and thought _What the fuck is happening. _"Is it scaring you?"

Ezreal squinted at him. "No."

"You sure?" His fingers trailed down Ezreal's neck to his collarbone, then back up to his jaw to trace it. Ezreal's eyes half-closed. He rolled over to face Ryland, relaxing. The light in Ezreal's bedroom was dim, the air chilly. "I'd be a little freaked out." _I actually kinda am. _

"Are you really freaked out?" Hearing his thought, Ezreal's warm hand slid across his chest. He frowned. "Your heartbeat's fine."

"So is yours." Their eyes met .

Then they moved at the same time. Ryland tried to pin him down, but Ezreal was stronger. He grabbed Ryland's wrists

_But didn't break them _

And pushed him back into the pillows. Ryland struggled. Ezreal half-smiled and leaned forward onto his chest, face inches away.

_This is a little too familiar, _Ryland thought distantly. Only the devilish eyes were blue instead of green, the hair gold instead of red. "Get off of me."

"Nope." Ez kissed his forehead and nudged his chin playfully. Ryland felt the beginnings of arrhythmia. Someone warm and soft was lying on top of him, and his repressive healer training had made him very —sensitive. "Make me."

_Oh, fuck. _Ryland struggled, then found himself leaning up to Ezreal's neck and biting him. He pulled away almost immediately. "I — I'm sorry. I don't know —"

"Is that really it? I thought you had more practice." Ezreal shifted his weight. His grip on Ryland's bony wrists didn't loosen. "Especially as a Noxian."

"Like you can do better," Ryland snapped before he thought about it. He hated it when Ezreal called him a Noxian.

Ezreal snorted. "Please. Lux doesn't let me practice and I know I can." Without hesitation, Ezreal bit him at the soft spot between the jaw and throat. It tickled at first. Then it deepened into a wave of sparkling pain.

_Fuck, _Ryland thought. He was deeply startled._ Don't moan. Shit. _Even when Ezreal's teeth sank in deeper, he managed not to, though the air escaped his lips a little more roughly than usual.

And then he and Ezreal felt it.

Both of their hearts in perfect synch: _th - th - thud. T - t - th._

"What the fuck?" Ezreal's voice was loud and close in his ear. His hot breath smelled like mint and sounded like the rain falling.

Ryland thought quickly. "That one doesn't count."

"What, the bite?"

"No. The other thing."

"Well, yeah." Ezreal pulled away. His eyes narrowed. "It's a tie. I'm gonna win."

"Nope." _I don't think either one of us are going to win this. _

His eyebrows rose. "We'll see."

They struggled against one another most of the rest of the afternoon. Ezreal had only smirked wordlessly at Ryland's steadily eroding self-control. He'd gotten shaky, particularly when Ezreal bit him on top of an already existing mark. When Ez let go of Ryland's wrists, the healer's arms crossed around Ezreal's ribs. Neither of them seemed to notice.

They'd been staring at one another, feeling their hearts thrashing against the walls of their chests in tempos that shouldn't have matched up. There were twin tracks of blood rolling down Ez's neck.

_T - th - thud. Th -t - th - thud. _

"I blame the mental link," Ryland finally murmured to break the silence. He almost passed out when Ezreal leaned towards his face. His gaze lingered on Ryland's lips. He waited there, grinning, twirling a lock of Ryland's black hair around his finger.

Ryland's heart felt like it was capsizing. Like he was drowning. It didn't help that Ezreal's eyes were the color of the ocean. Ezreal winced — his heart was apparently going down with the ship.

_Th - th — _

Silence, broken only by the whispering rain. Their eyes met again, panicked blue and horrified silver-green.

_Holy shit, _Ezreal thought, amazed. _We're going to die. _

Then _thudthudthudthud. _Their hearts were beating quickly but normally again. The brief lack of blood flow made them both dizzy.

Ez collapsed on Ryland's chest and panted against his collarbone. "What t - the fuck?"

Ryland still couldn't breathe. He was light-headed. The words slipped out. "Were you going to kiss me?"

"Ew. No." Ez glanced up at him beneath golden bangs. "I'm not a faggot."

_No, _Ryland thought dimly. He tried to tell himself he wasn't disappointed. It wasn't that it was Ezreal. It was just someone else, proof and validation that Ryland wasn't unattractive. Kat often made fun of how gangly and skeletal he was. It made him even more insecure, if that were possible. _You're just a complete asshole. _

_I'm sorry, _Ezreal thought. He buried his face in Ryland's soft gray shirt. _I guess I shouldn't mess around like that. _

_It's alright. _He pulled Ezreal close and tried to calm his own rapid-fire heartbeats.

They were lying like that — bodies entwined, vibrant bruises splashed across their throats and collarbones, hair ruffled, panting — when Lux opened the door and said, "Ez, I'm really sorry about — Oh. Oh my."

The three of them stared at one another. No one moved. Ezreal's face slowly colored. Ryland knew from Empath that Lux was torn between staying and storming away.

"Lux." Ezreal gulped. "It's a game."

"Sure." She snorted. "Sure it is." Ryland thought he'd never seen a woman look so angry. Not even his mother. And that was saying something.

"Yeah." Ezreal nudged Ryland's jaw with his nose. Lux's eyes crackled with anger. "Tell her, Ryland."

He winced. "It's the Stress Game."

"Well. I can certainly see why the two of you would be stressed." She bit her tongue and wouldn't look at them.

Ryland cleared his throat and abruptly pushed Ezreal off of him. "Uh. Well. I'll see you later." He shoved awkwardly past Lux. She shifted away so they didn't brush one another. Her glare followed him out of the room, so frosty that it made the bottom of his stomach cold.

He knew from the mental link that Lux's rage-filled tirade had lasted about an hour. And that she'd hated Ryland even more so ever since.

_It had to be all Ryland's fault. One-hundred percent. He was the Noxian deviant Empath, after all. And Ryland certainly felt like it was his fault. He always did. _

In the present, Ryland swallowed hard. "Well, she just sucked your dick. How mad can she be?"

"Yeah. She did, but I don't think she was all there. I don't know if anyone really is." He looked away. "Not like deep and philosophically. I just mean for now."

"The air does feel a little strange," Ryland said cautiously.

Ezreal nodded, biting his lip. Then his face lit up. "If it turns my girlfriend into a slut, I don't care what it is."

"Ez —" _Feelings are important, _Ryland thought, and sighed. He didn't want to get called gay again. "Good night."

"Night." Ezreal hugged him tight, then Arcane Shifted to Lux, who'd been watching them. Her eyes were dull and absent, though, and Ryland was thankful.

He didn't notice Soraka whispering to Sona, who dropped her book in her lap and stared at her in surprise. Her hand flew to her lips.

_Really? _She asked mentally. _Is it true? _

Soraka nodded firmly and whispered "We do what we must."

* * *

_How Demacian do you have to be, _Garen wondered, _to get cockblocked by your own sister? _

He sighed heavily. Quinn was hesitant again. Hesitant after an hour spent seducing her. "I'm terribly sorry."

She put her arms around his neck and peered up at him. Her round, innocent golden eyes sent a very non-patriotic shiver through his body. Her soft lips parted as if she were about to speak.

She didn't get a chance.

Garen couldn't control himself. Well, he could, but didn't want to. His titan-sized hands enveloped her waist and pulled her as close as possible. He could feel that her soft body was slick with sweat brought on by the humid night and his embrace. The pretty ruffled white shirt she'd been wearing was drenched.

His kisses overwhelmed her fragile, quivering body. When he pulled away, she was gasping for air. She tried to steady herself, but ended up leaning her hand against his hard nipple. She flinched away with a squeak.

She drew herself up to her full height. "General Crownguard. How — improper of you."

"Improper?" He pulled her close again. His dick covered much of her stomach. He hesitated, noticing that her lips were trembling, pale shadows in the dusky evening. Then he pressed ahead, thinking _This shit happens in the Noxian army all the time. Kat told me so. _"I outrank you, correct?"

"By a lot, sir," she breathed, and he realized he'd mistaken her fear. She was shaking with eagerness.

He took a deep breath. "Then do as I s —"

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Her hands kneaded his huge, hard biceps. And his thick fingers wound into her shoulder-length sable hair. It was almost too silky for his callused skin to feel, light and soft as a butterfly's wings.

"So strong," she murmured. She had no idea what had gotten into her. But her promise ring had been missing and Garen was here. It was a bit like — well — magic. She felt herself sinking dreamily to her knees, falling in slow-motion through the hazy warm dark. His dick was the length of her hand, plus her pinky. This didn't deter her.

Garen's tightening grip on her right shoulder didn't deter her, either. She cupped the tip of his cock with her lips, delicately suckling the sides of it. Then she let the length of her tongue swirl along it. She felt Garen try to push it into her throat and pulled away. _Not yet. Let me taste it first ._

These thoughts — where were they coming from? She didn't know. She only knew that he tasted good. Not like any flavor she knew. Something thick and rich. Something she didn't mind letting into the back of her throat, didn't mind swallowing entirely.

She remembered something she'd once glimpsed in one of those trashy tabloids at a Piltover drug store, a tiny article jammed between spring fashions and weight loss advertisements. _To avoid choking, stretch your tongue as fully as possible. _She didn't know if it was true. She decided to try.

The tip of her tongue grazed the tender spot at the very base of his dick. He shuddered with pleasure. There was still pressure in the back of her throat. But the fat, swollen length felt just right. When he came, she lapped it up without a second thought.

Alone in his office and watching them through his open window, Zandred leaned on his elbows and sighed. _King Jarvan III and Demetrius Falin are going to be displeased with the state of the Institute. _He heard another barely-stifled moan issue from behind his closed office door. Erinae had changed her mind and released Josh, but not Davin. Her captive was a lot noisier without his best friend there.

_Most displeased indeed. _


	5. Of Vampires and Law Enforcement

_ Damn. Keep the requests coming (no pun intended). Also if you guys could just ignore the existentialism and focus on the sex, I'd appreciate it. _

_ Additionally, this chapter is all lemons. The "story" (wink wink) picks back up next chapter. Sorry for the inconvenience. I think. _

_ Warmest Regards and Wishes,_

_- vOceanic_

* * *

_Ruttin' like mayflies. _

That's what his wife Melena used to call it. Malcolm Graves took another drag off his cigarette, leaned back in his rocking chair, and watched two young female Summoners paw at each other in the moonlight. When one girl got the other's bra undone, Malcolm closed his eyes.

He wasn't about to watch two sixteen-year-olds get it on. He weren't from Noxus.

Malcolm's wife had been one hell of a woman. She was much more of a freak than Malcolm first guessed, really freaky for a little young thing with ginger hair, freckles and an ass that didn't quit.

She wasn't freaky like Noxus freaky. No, she just couldn't get enough of his dick. By day she was the shy daughter of a lumberjack. By night she was Malcolm's personal slut, and loved it.

The memory of how his cock looked pushing past those cute bow lips was just as vivid as the experience had been. The inside of her delicate mouth was a soft, light pink, her tongue dainty and petite. But she could use that little tongue. Lord, could she use it.

His favorite memory was of her molesting him at church. One hot, shirt-collar-stuffy Summertide evening, the old, cranky pastor was a'preachin' about how lust was a terrible, terrible sin. Malcolm had been amusing himself by watching the guilty faces of those around him. The two teenage girls — not too different from the Summoners before him — turned a bright red. The preacher's wife looked at Malcolm nervously, then away.

But Melena Graves — she slid her hand up his thigh, then got him huge and hot. He didn't hear a damn word the preacher said. How could he, with that devilish smile and those little fingertips squeezing the top of his cock? Plus the preacher's wife was watching them both and massaging her own thighs. Malcolm felt as sinful as a dog and didn't give a single damn.

After the evening service Melena winked at him. They strolled (as best he could stroll, with a throbbing erection) into the woodline at sunset like a couple of teenagers. Then she abruptly bent over in front of a tree, lifted her white silky dress up past her round asscheeks and slim waist, and braced herself.

He almost tore her lacy underwear apart. He didn't even get them pulled down, just pushed to the side. He fucked her good and hard, her body shaking with every thrust. Her breasts jiggled until he grabbed them to hold her there and fuck her harder.

Her moans faded into the nighttime sounds of owls and frogs calling, while the tops of the pine trees turned slowly from orange to inky gray-green-black.

Afterwards he helped her straighten the ribbon in her hair and sighed. _"Melena, ain't you the slightest bit ashamed?" _

She tilted her nose to the air — that cute little button nose Graves missed so much — and she said, _"The gods of the Hereafter gave me this body 'en I intend to use it." _

"_Then we really just go to church for the suppers and knittin'?" _He was secretly relieved.

"_You know that, Malcolm. Only damn time you let me knit in peace." _She punched him playfully, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He watched the two teenage girls dart past them, shirts afluffled, and shook his head. _"Not just for fucking. Like to use my body for knitting, too." _

"And use it she did," Graves muttered, and sighed. His dick was hard, but he guessed that wasn't different from everyone else at this Institute. He wasn't terribly surprised when Evelynn materialized from the smoky evening over his shoulder.

He didn't turn around. "Fate fuckin' Leblanc again?"

"Yes." She sighed and poutily flung her arms around Graves' neck and rested her cheek against his hair. "And it's already a threesome because there's two of her. She literally has me outnumbered."

He wet his lips. "Yar. Sucks, don't it?"

"Mhm." She sighed into his hair and let her fingers trace his strong jaw. "And Talon is fucking Varus. Well, Varus is fucking — Talon's not really into it. If you catch my drift."

Malcolm snorted and stroked the back of her neck with rough fingers. She purred. "Didn't need to know all that, now."

"I'm lonely." Her fingernails grazed him. She was half invisible, shifting vapor in the half-lit air.

Graves stretched his legs. Evie'd been after him for around a year now, if only out of curiosity. Graves knew Fate talked about him a lot. Just didn't know most of what he said.

Malcolm still didn't look at her. "If Fate said I got a thirteen incher, he's lying."

"Oh, I know that." She sounded relieved. The infectious lust going around had even touched the stony-hearted Outlaw. She was excited and pleased. "It doesn't matter."

He winced. "No, I s'pose it doesn't."

She vanished and a second later, Graves felt taut asscheeks rest on both of his thighs. The warmth of Evie's pussy sank into his faded jeans.

He leaned back, rolled his shoulders, relaxing. "Dunno how I feel about being fucked by air."

"Too bad." The heat moved across the length of his dick. He could feel the bounciness of her buttocks — didn't have to see them to know how firm and muscular they were. _A whore's ass, one who prizes her body. _She rested against his lower stomach, then slid down again. She was hot and wet and open.

Air escaped his lips in a rough sigh. Her legs tightened around his, effectively pushing his dick length-wise into her crevice. He gritted his teeth, then reached out and seized her invisible butt, ignoring how stupid he must've looked. He dragged her across the length of his cock — the front of his jeans grew damp from her fluid. Her back arched with pleasure.

Then he grunted. "Can we take this inside?"

She hesitated, drawn by the pulsing eventide energy of the outdoors. But she quickly agreed and walked with him through the deserted Quarters. Most of the younger folk were less traditional and could bone outdoors. But long hours on the road had made Graves a solid bed-loving man.

He stretched out on his mattress and watched as she unzipped his fly. He admired the soft curve of her cheeks, a mysterious aqua blue that reminded him of the moon for some reason.

Her inhuman eyes were gleaming. She was dripping and burning. Her lust wasn't personal, but Graves didn't mind, not any more than he minded the way she straddled him, resting both of her hands on his chest. He put a hand on the small of her back, but knew she wanted it her own way — without him guiding her. Her tongue traced the full curve of his lower lip.

Then she got on him and fucked him like a toy.

At first Graves felt resentment at being used. This feeling vanished in a blackout of bliss. Evie was a seductress, he remembered too late. A succubus. His consciousness faded, seemed to shrink to his dick, which was huge and throbbing with pleasure. Her body drew on his, fed on his satisfaction. Milked it from him.

They didn't notice Fate cracking the door open, glancing at them and shaking his head. _Godsdamnit Evie. Just one night. All I ask. _

There was no chance.

* * *

"Well," Caitlyn sighed. "Guess our fine firemen deserve at look at nice tits every now and then."

Jayce nodded and buried his face in his Cthonian Crest pillow. He was tempted to ask her if she wanted to pick back up where they'd left off, but could tell by even the dim light that her face was set in her cranky look.

_I just wish she wasn't so fucking irresistible, _he thought. Even in his loose white night shirt (made of imported Ionian silk) she was beautiful. Her pouty lips, mussed chestnut hair and the blue-green vapor pen she was smoking weren't helping either. Jayce was a man of order, but between the messy blankets and Cait's pale bare feet, he was being driven mad.

He had managed to put the opera _Demetrius & Caelyn _on. The only thing about the night that had gone right. In Jayce's opinion.

_How could I ever love any but you, sir? _The child actor playing Caelyn whispered into the still night. Jayce put an arm around Cait's chilly shoulders and pulled her close. He knew the next part by heart though he didn't want to.

Caelyn's voice steadily became more and more ragged, the low Ionian clarinet reprising the main theme of the opera in a minor key, picking up speed. This was Act I, right after Caelyn killed the first forty Demacian Eagles by himself. He was trying to convince Demetrius Falin to love him still. Though Demetrius did, of course.

_My adoration of you, forged in fiery combat among a thousand flashing blades. My desire t - t - tempered by the chill spring mornings we spend together, watching the sparrows and the f - f - foxes gather their y - young together. _A deep, shaky breath, then saying rapidly:_ My yearning reflected in the moonlight gleaming off your —_

Caitlyn smacked her hair brush against the bed. "Jayce, what the fuck _is _this shit?"

"What?" Jayce gaped at her. Caitlyn rarely swore.

"I've been listening to it for the past half hour and thinking 'what the fuck?' So?" She eyed him. "What is it?"

"N - Noxian opera." _I sound like Caelyn _he suddenly realized, and bit his tongue.

"About what?" She scowled. "A servant boy and his master? Or am I not artsy enough to get it?"

Jayce suddenly realized he'd spent a large portion of his career arresting pedophiles and gulped. "Yeah. Sorry, I —"

"Fucking Noxus." Caitlyn groaned and puffed out vapor. The fact that they openly practiced that sort of stuff irked her to no end. But they were out of her district. Way out of it. "Can we get the radio instead?"

_But my favorite part's next, _Jayce thought, disappointed. Demetrius' simple answer — _and you are mine _— gave him chills. So did the wave of music that rose after it. He'd never seen the opera, but could guess what was happening when music like that played. Anyone could.

He flicked the Super Stereophonic 4000 to some twangy love song.

"Much better," she said, and kissed him. Her curved lips roamed immediately to his jaw, and he pushed her down on the rumpled bed. The dim light twinkled on her eyes. Her breasts strained at the night shirt, and he freed them. They spilled into the night.

He took the right one's nipple in his mouth and sucked it, deepening the swirl of his tongue when she pressed her hard against his collarbone. His large hand teased apart her lower lips and was working its fingers deep inside of her when the door opened again. Neither of them paused — they knew it was Vi.

The three of them had a long history of threesomes, going back as far as Jayce's first day on the job. He'd been unnerved at first when the pair of them grabbed his balls and put their tits in his face. But he decided to go with it. It wasn't like his quest for true love was going anywhere fast.

The newcomer shrugged out of everything but her lingerie and nudged Jayce aside. The Defender huffed in frustration.

Vi ignored it. Her entire body was alight with eagerness. "You know the rules. You have to share."

"Fine." He scrubbed a hand across his face. _Chivalry is dead and we killed it. _For a moment, he longed to be Noxian. With the horses, the knights and the little blonde Willow-Dove Boys and —

_And what the fuck am I thinking? _

Caitlyn chuckled. "Glad you're here. Egghead had me listening to some pedophile opera."

"From Noxus?" Vi kissed Cait twice. Jayce thought, as he usually did, that Cait was more gay than straight. She didn't smile like that when he kissed her. Her white teeth flashed in the moonlight.

"Mhm. Damn Noxians."

"Poor Cupcake," Vi breathed. Cait squirmed when Vi spread her thighs open. Even without her huge robot hands, her palms were considerable. Jayce watched the delicate pink tip of Vi's tongue touch Cait's damp flesh.

The Sheriff laughed. "That tickles, and you know I — " Her words were lost in a moan that was in turn lost in the Bilgewater love ballad, the two sounds intertwined and spiraling out into the quiet, sex-filled night.

All lost romance aside, Jayce thought watching Vi go down on Cait was pretty hot. Her lips were slightly parted, her tongue sweeping back and forth, teasing Cait's opening, brushing her hard clit. Jayce grabbed Cait's wrists and held her down to keep her from writhing so hard. Her stomach moved up and down in waves, in tempo with Vi's long, long licks.

After the second orgasm, Jayce tapped Vi on the shoulder with mild impatience. "Hey, remember that sharing thing?"

Vi nipped Cait one last time and grinned up at him. "Got her wet for you."

"I noticed," Jayce said politely. Vi startled him by knocking him down beside Caitlyn and grabbing his dick. As many threesomes as they'd had, he'd never actually fucked her.

"Need something a little harder tonight," she whispered in his ear. "I think you'll do."

"Uh. O - okay." He closed his eyes. _Real suave, Jayce. Way to go. _

He tilted his head back as she bit his throat. Then he had to grit his teeth to restrain the orgasm that ran through him, as hard and fast as an overheating train. He barely kept it down. Vi was ultra-tight because she was mostly gay.

"Holy _shit_," he gasped. Cait giggled and kissed him.

It felt like he was falling. Warmth enveloped his lips and cock. He noticed absently that Cait was playing with his balls, kneading them lightly, her tongue shoved deep into his mouth. And they were both soft — the inside of Vi and Cait's lips both.

His hands worked their way to Vi's ass. It was lush, full, rounder than Cait's. He smacked it once, twice. Then he squeezed it as hard as possible and listened to her moan.

Cait pushed his balls up as Vi contracted around his shaft. The come spurted out of him, so hard that it hurt. It was a sweet ache, though, and well worth it. He lay there shaking for a solid five minutes as the two of them finished each other off. All his desire for Noxus had fled him. So had all of his Egghead knowledge, save for the words _holy shit. _

Sometimes those words were all you needed. Ta - aik — wait. Shit. Never mind.

* * *

Ezreal kissed Lux good night, rolled over and promptly fell asleep.

_Because what is a story without a dream vision or twenty? A good story, you say? Well, bite me. _

And Ezreal dreamt he was walking the streets of Noxus at high noon at the very peak of Summertide. The air was white and hazy with heat. The sun beat down on his bare shoulders, beat to the rhythm of his stuttering heart. He and everyone else he saw was shirtless.

_For Noxus. _

The streets were thronging and crowded with musicians, fortune tellers, with busty prostitutes of all shapes, colors, sizes and half-species. And everyone was almost naked. A dancing quintet of red-haired, naked-breasted Ionian girls in silky red underwear swirled by, gold chains and cuffs dangling from their wrists and ankles. They winked at him. There was no way to tell if they were really slaves.

There were street vendors selling everything, from chokers and leashes to dream catchers. The slim, raven-haired beauties — the daughters of wealthy Noxian officials — were in black suggestions of bikinis that revealed far more milk-pale skin than they hid. They sprayed one another with hoses, giggling. The drops glistered in the air and smacked the dark pavement with a _hiss_.

But it was the still, unmoving ones that caught Ezreal's eye. Behind all the movement, in the shade of the grand gray-stoned buildings, sat the Generals in lawn chairs, sipping iced tea. Their fair Willow-Doves sat cross-legged at their feet.

Ezreal's mentor Amahe had actually forbidden him to go to Noxus when he was younger. Because he looked like a Willow-Dove, and the Generals might mistake him for one, and gods help him if that should happen. Because they and Ezreal were both skinny, golden-haired, blue-eyed. Only the Willow-Doves were usually even more handsome than he was. They'd been purchased, selected from the orphanages of Demacia, usually at great cost.

He watched one of them lean into their master's hand, purring as the man's fingers brushed the bright red sunburn on his neck. The boy was obviously enjoying it.

_No thanks, _Ezreal thought with mild disgust. He saw the dark-haired, green-eyed Generals all glance up — they were psychic, among other things. They laughed and spoke quietly to one another.

He heard one of them say, "Degardo, do you really want the God of Destruction as your Dove? I'll take Linnaeus any day of the week." Degardo chuckled. "Linnaeus could give him a run for his money, I'll bet. Ezreal'l destroy the universe. Linn will have to content himself with your kitchen." The Willow-Dove in question hid his face against his master's knee. Ez had to strain to hear his quiet Demacian-tinged voice. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm trying not to be so clumsy." "I know, child. You'll grow out of it." The affectionate pat on the head made Ez wince, but not as hard as the look of meditative bliss on the Dove's face afterwards. Ezreal forced himself to look away.

_I can definitely see why Ryland hates it when I call him Noxian. I love Noxus, but — I don't know if I'd want to be from here. And godsdamn. _Ezreal squinted at the colorless sky and felt sweat trickle from his temples into his blue eyes with a salty burn. _I love the heat too, but — _

He watched one girl dump her ice water down the front of another girl's bikini, who gasped. The latter's nipples were suddenly tender and swollen and pointing out from the damp cloth. Ez had the overwhelming urge to lean over and suck on them, to feel the chilly water fill his mouth. He forced himself to keep going, though he was light-headed and his footsteps were dragging.

"You need a drink, hon?"

He turned. She had the voice of a Noxian whore and the face of a Demacian angel. Her full lips were pursed around a green straw. She sipped her mint julep as she surveyed him.

Her tight blue-white sundress clung to every curve and revealed her moisture-slick shoulders. Her fingernails were pointed and crimson, her hair long, a gold that faded to almost white at the fringes, where it fanned damply onto her breasts. Her large floppy sunhat shaded her face and tops of her shoulders.

It was then that Ezreal felt the thirst. It was an ache that shriveled the tissue at the back of his throat. His tongue was parched. He coughed to clear his throat, but it hurt. He caught a glimpse of one of the Doves sipping from a General's iced tea as the man held it before him and suddenly envied them.

"I — I'd appreciate that."

She smiled. "Come in, then. You look thirsty, little boy."

His mentor Amahe had told him to never go inside stranger's houses. And especially not in Noxus. Never in Noxus.

Ezreal wasn't really surprised when she dragged him to her richly furnished, sunny, open bedroom, laughing aloud delightedly. Her giggle was so charming that Ezreal almost didn't mind. She was many times stronger than she looked — he could tell from the dexterous way she looped the silver chains around his wrists and pulled them tight against the dark, cherry-wood bedposts. They were crowned with unicorns. He couldn't find it in himself to struggle. He was tired and weak.

She smiled down at him. "Poor child."

Ezreal sighed tiredly. "I thought —"

"You were getting water?"

She started with her shoes, tugging them off, then lifted the skirt of her short dress up, revealing rounded thighs and buttocks. Her underwear was a thin, cloudy gray, dotted with luscious strawberries.

Ezreal forced himself to look away. "I have a girlfriend."

"Do you?" Her voice, like her face, was bright with happiness. "I'm not surprised in the slightest. You should have a girlfriend. You're very handsome." The dress came off and fell to the ground. He couldn't help but glance up to see her matching bra. The strawberries looked even more delicious next to her creamy white breasts. He bet her nipples were the same shade, and just as sweet.

It was at this point Ezreal noticed the bony, shirtless boy sitting in the chair across the foot of the bed. He leaned back, chugging his glass of sparkling water and wiping his lips. He had thick red-gold hair that fell past his ears, a lean face smattered with light freckles, and sharp cheekbones. He watched intently with eyes that were disturbingly — clear? No. A very faint jade green.

"Another one, Cressida?" The boy had a high Demacian accent. "Is he even from around here? He looks like a wanderer."

"All the better, in my opinion." She licked her lips. "Out-of-towners are delectable.

"Are you going to watch this?" Ezreal glared at the boy, hoping to look threatening. _I hope it's only watching. Dear gods. I'm not Noxian. _

The boy's answering smile took him off-guard. It was dazzling.

"Aye. No participating for me this round. Your cherished heterosexuality will remain — intact." He cracked his wrists, and Ezreal noticed that his hands were very heavily scarred. White, lavender, brownish. They made him feel sick to his stomach, but that didn't stop him from eying the perfect whiteness of Cressida's skin. "I'm still weary from what we did to Ryan White this morning."

"Poor Ryan." Cressida laughed, breasts bouncing. Ezreal watched them jiggle and swallowed hard. "He loved every second. Just as he's loved you for a long while, Caelyn."

"I know. All the Doves do." Caelyn yawned as Cressida flung her floppy hat onto the bedpost, crowning one of the unicorns. "Ryan is my best friend, though. Hopefully he still is."

Cressida snickered. "If his moaning was any indication —"

Ezreal cleared his throat, deeply uncomfortable. "Can I —"

Cressida turned back to him expectantly. Lust gleamed in her blue-green eyes — it reminded Ezreal of summer at the Southern Sea. "Can you what, dear boy?"

"I'd appreciate you more, but my throat hurts."

"I'd imagine, doll." She walked over to him, moved slowly and gracefully, then prodded the fading bruises Ryland had left. Ezreal gasped. "Caelyn. He came tenderized."

The boy snorted. "Not nearly enough."

"He'll be when I'm done." She stroked the side of his face and leaned nearer. The rounded tops of her breasts grazed his face. "Poor little thing."

Ezreal's dick stirred. He flinched away, though her hands were cool and refreshing like shade. "I said I had a girlfriend."

"What, are you Demacian now?" Caelyn asked sardonically. He finished the rest of his sparkling water with a contented sigh.

Cressida's hand cupped Ezreal's chin, then massaged his throat. The gentle touch soothed the ache, and Ez got harder. He forced himself to speak. "No, but my girlfriend is."

"It's a happy thing we're in Noxus then, love." She unbuttoned his pants and slid them off. They caught on his cock. She laughed and pushed it down. He was totally naked, sweating. He felt vulnerable and hated it. Or almost did, until the crimson nails traced the sensitive inner curve of his thigh, teasing the bottom of his balls. He glanced up at Caelyn, who smirked.

Ezreal bit his lip. "Quit it."

"You don't actually want me to stop." She peered at him through streaming blonde hair and wet her lips. He watched, helpless and aroused, as her hand closed around his dick, squeezed it and began to push and pull it. He was instantly and hopelessly throbbing. Her hand was lubed with sweat, and he could feel how slick it was as his dick slid in and out of her dainty fingers. Her ruby red nails teased the tip of his cock.

_I'm moaning like a bitch, _Ezreal suddenly realized. He was. He was so hot and hard that he couldn't help it. His body clenched and unclenched beneath her.

Then she darted away, laughing aloud. Caelyn glanced up from Casteel White's _Songs of Noxus _and smiled. "See? It's not that bad. Especially not for Noxus. You should be glad I'm tired."

Ezreal squinted at him. He tried not to pant. "Who are you?"

"Caelyn Falin, slaughterer of Demacians and fourth-in-command of this city-state. With my master Demetrius of course. We're equally ranked, though we shouldn't be." He shrugged and went back to reading.

Cressida returned with a tall, cold glass of water. Beads of moisture rolled down the glass, which was clouded by chill. Her lips closed around the green straw. She and Caelyn both watched as Ezreal struggled, his lust and thirst competing for space in his body.

She laughed. It was somehow inappropriate for someone so innocent looking. "Do you want it, little one?"

_You're not that much older than me, _Ezreal thought distantly, then realized he had no idea if that were true. She looked young…but this was Noxus. She actually hadn't aged in four-hundred-thirty-three years. "Yes."

"Then beg for it."

"What?" He asked blankly, and Caelyn snorted.

"You heard me." She grinned. Her canines were unusually long and gleamed in the summer sun pouring through her window.

_Man, this is humiliating. How does Ryland do this shit? _Ezreal wondered, then cleared his throat. "Please."

"Hmm." She neared him and balanced the cup atop his taut stomach, steadying it with one hand. He strained towards it, but the chains were too short. His chest heaved — it was freezing. With her other hand, she kneaded his dick, long and slow strokes, from the very base of it to the very tip. Sweat rolled down his bare chest. "Not very convincing, was it, Caelyn?"

"Not at all," Caelyn Falin agreed. His leaned forward on his hand, bemused.

"Please," Ezreal moaned. He squeezed his eyes shut as the first drops of cold water pattered onto his stomach, making his muscles tighten involuntarily. Her hand paused at the tip of his dick and squeezed it.

"Hmmmm."

He met her eyes. His voice was a husky whisper. "Please?"

Then he noticed the strange feral yellow gleam at the back of those pretty ocean eyes and flinched.

_For Noxus. _

It was too late. She squeezed him and he came so hard his ears rang and his consciousness disappeared. She leaned into him and sank her teeth into one of Ryland's bruises, deeper than the healer had, puncturing his skin. The cold water spilled all over them both in an icy embrace, her lingerie plastered to her skin. Ezreal cried out as a deep, deep wave of pleasure filled his entire body, so deep it seemed to make the nerve endings in his spine and fingers crackle.

He awoke with a gasp, unsurprised to find his green-gold Ionian sleep pants spotted with come. Not too much. Most of it had gone down Lux's throat earlier.

He glanced at his girlfriend in the dark, feeling guilty. She was asleep.

Then he lay back down and closed his eyes again. His muscles were still quivering, but his thirst was gone.

And visions of rich little strawberries — twins and daughters to the ones on Cressida's lingerie — filled his mind.


	6. The Muse and the Dressing Room

"I hate shopping." Lux surveyed the vast ranks of dresses and groaned loudly. Though it was early in the morning, the aisles were already crowded by Summoners. Everyone was eagerly browsing at nearest specialty dress shop, _Calrutti Silk & Co._ It clung to the outskirts of the Institute, alongside a few farmer's markets, arcades and tech shops.

"How the hell do you hate shopping? It's recreational. Fun." Kat glanced at her and elbowed a woman out of her way before frowning at a price tag. "Do Demacians really not like fun?"

"I never had time for it." She tugged on a dark blue gown thinking _that looks nice, _then remembered Ezreal's comments and got mad again. "I never got the practice."

"Pffft. Good thing you're with me, then. I'm an expert." Kat assessed Lux's waist by cupping her hands around it, then dragged her to the aisle mysteriously marked _4_.

Lux's teeth ground together. Someone stepped on her shoe and apologized. "How did you have time to shop so much when you were third-in-command? Did the Noxians not make you do anything?"

Kat froze. She turned to Lux with a frosty smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Someone's cranky if they're already bringing the army into this."

"I was a General, too." _Not that Ezreal ever treats me like that._ Lux scowled. "I had too many things to do to — waste time like this." _Because I actually deserved my rank instead of sleeping with Saint Garamond the way you slept with Darius. And every other General. That wasn't a pedophile. _

Kat knew what she was thinking and shook her head. "Sweetheart. Really? You wanna know why I had so much free time?"

"Why?"

"Because the Noxians get shit done." Kat pulled a yellow silk dress off the shelf and handed it to the shopping aide following at a respectful distance behind them. Then Kat surveyed Lux's breasts and added a deep, v-neck purple one as well. _That'll get Bitchboy's dick hard enough to stop monopolizing my boyfriend. _

Lux pouted. "We got things done too."

"Yeah. Eventually." Kat snorted. "When they told me to stab a guy, you know what I did? I stabbed him. I didn't ask why or think about why."

Lux's fists clenched. _Because you blindly followed —_

"— Blindly followed figureheads?" Kat chuckled — all Noxians were at least mildly psychic — and threw a green one into the mix. The shopping aide's arms were shaking. "Don't get me started on your battle saints. Bet you never questioned them, did you?"

Lux hesitated, then sighed. "No."

"Exactly." Kat smirked. "Now lighten up before I fuck you with a stick of sugarcane."

Lux punched her on the shoulder, and Kat smiled. She was actually deeply irritated with Lux for suggesting she hadn't done shit in the army. _Yeah, tell that to the forty-two Captains I killed with my bare hands. Or how about that battle-saint-in-training I took out? Bitch, please. _

And when the shopping aide let them both into the dressing room, Kat suddenly saw the opportunity for revenge. It was a medium-sized room with mirrors on all sides and a glossy leather couch. The lighting was dim, the silver lamps shaped like upside-down tulips. Letters spelling out _Live Life to Its Fullest _ran around the ceiling.

Kat hung the dresses on a pewter hook and watched Lux look in the mirror. The Demacian was frowning slightly at what she saw as fat. Her crankiness was gone, replaced by this — this vulnerability in her light blue eyes.

Kat sighed, disgusted. _Jeez. She really doesn't think she's cute enough for the Prodigal Fuckass, does she? _

How could she not think she was cute? Kat thought she was cute. Lux's tits were squeezed against the front of her skin-tight white shirt, her nipples hard little buttonpoints at either side of the blue Demacian crest. Her hands were on those flared, taut hips, hair pulled back into a cute ponytail.

And her ass was tiny, true, but it was still there. Kat actually liked the way her long skinny legs led up to the delicate curves. So thinking, Kat stood behind Lux and slid her hand up between her thighs.

Lux whipped around. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Consider it payment for taking your cranky ass shopping," Kat said, and kissed her neck. She felt Lux's muscles tense. She didn't know whether to flee the assassin or not, but wasn't given the chance. Kat squeezed her wrists and pulled them to her sides, pushing Lux's breasts out even farther as her back arched.

"I don't really know —"

"Shut up," Kat whispered in her ear, then licked her neck as it broke into goosebumps. "You have to get naked anyways, don't you?"

"But —"

Kat pulled Lux's jeans to her knees, then squeezed her hand in between the Demacian's tightly-clenched thighs and began to rub her crevice through her underwear. Lux was watching Kat's hand move in the mirror, her lips slightly parted. The Noxian's dexterous fingertips spread her apart. Then Kat pushed the panties aside and stuck her index finger deep inside her roughly.

Lux gasped, sounding almost terrified, and fell back against Kat. The assassin heard the other dressing rooms go silent and slapped her hand over Lux's mouth. "I told you to shut up."

"You're raping m —"

"Shhh!" There was a light knock on the door. Kat ignored it and worked her fingers harder. Lux's thighs were firmly pressed around her hand. She squeezed her clit, rubbed it, squeezed it again. Lux's moaning got louder, as did the knocking. The mirrors let Kat watch Luxanna come from every angle — get to see everything, from her breasts bouncing up and down as her chest heaved, to her ass jiggling as she rode Kat's hand. Her underwear, strangely enough, had strawberries on it.

When she went limp, Kat let her fall back onto the couch.

"Excuse me?" The voice at the door was muffled.

"Five minutes, please!" Kat called. She got on top of Lux and glared at her. Lux instinctively flinched away — too many of her comrades had fallen to Kat just like this. "Bet you couldn't fuck your way to the top if you tried."

"What does that mean?" She asked shrilly. Kat didn't answer — she was too busy sucking and kneading the soft inner curves of Lux's thighs. Lux panicked and froze up again, but couldn't stop Kat's questing tongue. It flicked the inner arch between her legs, then drove in deep. Lux screamed.

"EXCUSE ME?!" That Ionian-tinged accent had to be Mr. Calrutti of _Calrutti Silk & Co. _himself. Kat debated briefly, then flung the door open, thinking distantly _I think we need to get Ryland help. _

She was pleasantly surprised. It was a tall, dark-haired man. His light-blue eyes reminded her a bit of the Freljord, his handsome jawline a bit like Ryland's. He peered over her shoulders and immediately got an erection.

He saw the lust on Kat's face and licked his lips. "Is there a problem here?"

"Do you want there to be?" Kat's eyes flicked to his.

Mr. Calrutti — one of Runeterra's wealthiest businessmen — looked behind him and stepped inside. He locked the door with the master-key dangling from his beltloop.

Lux struggled, but the jeans around her knees prevented her from moving very far. "Wait, this isn't —"

"So this is the lovely lady, eh?" Calrutti's dick emerged from his tasteful silk pants, decently sized and curving slightly to the right. Kat pulled Lux's hair, dragged her face towards him, deeply excited. _Oh man. It's almost like I'm at home again. _

"But —"

"Relax, yes?" Calrutti jammed his dick down Lux's throat. Kat held her there, trying not to laugh as Lux's hands frantically pawed at thin air. She watched the mirrors as Lux's head bobbed back and forth, moved by the force of Calrutti's dick and Kat tugging on her ponytail. She was choking.

He pulled out and came all over her face. Kat watched as it dripped down her cheeks, dribbled across her lips. Her eyes were wide.

_Poor Lux, _Kat thought, and cackled. "That's what you get. I killed way more men than you did."

Calrutti looked at Kat in alarm and suddenly recognized her. He zipped his pants up and backed away. He cleared his throat. "Erm. This does not happen often."

"I fucking hope not." Kat eyed him. "It'd either be really bad or good for business."

"Probably bad. Most of the women who come here are, how you say, _frigid_. Or uninterested on the night before their weddings." He swallowed hard. He obviously had a gang background — he was glancing over Katarina for knives. Knew where to look, too. Her waist, the sleeves of her shirt, around her bra.

Kat snorted and shook her head. "Classy."

His smile was nothing short of brilliant. "But! As you two have been _wonderful _customers, you'll be receiving your three gowns for free." He air-kissed both of Katarina's cheeks and vanished. "Ta - shakti tante!"

"Ta -shakti?" Kat frowned. She'd heard that somewhere before. _Maybe he did have a little Freljord in him. _She grinned and looked at the sputtering General. _And maybe Lux's got a little Freljord on her face._

* * *

"Soraka?"

"Yes?"

Nami cleared her throat anxiously. "What if Karma says no?"

Soraka paused, then casually stepped around the two Summoners in their way. The dark-haired man was holding his iced coffee out with one hand as he frantically kissed the wisp of a blonde girl before him. There was at least a decade separating them.

Nami shook her head in mild disapproval and continued to glide along.

"Then we will have to make other plans. Part of being a Support is changing, adapting to the world around us." She spotted a boy with eager hands groping a voluptuous Noxian Summoner's jug-sized breasts and felt her face flush.

She swallowed hard. The boy looked just a bit like Ezreal. Enough to make her uncomfortable.

"And if that world includes sexual territory we're unfamiliar with, we must press on." She saw Nami's hesitation and sighed patiently. "Yes?"

"Is it because he's Noxian?" Nami blurted.

_The question of the ages, _Soraka thought wearily. Just what did one do who looked, walked and sounded like a Noxian king, shared his name with the most famous one, and claimed to do a healer's work? _Care for him. Of course. _

She saw Nami's deep amber eyes watching her face and nodded. "Yes. That's most likely it."

"Oh," Nami said softly. Her face grew sad. "That's —"

"We've all got traits we've got to live with, desirable or no." The leering twin dragons guarding the gates of the Ionian Quarters came into view, along with the lush, gnarled branches of bonsai trees. The lotus-shaped fountains misted the air, scented with exotic spices.

_This should be relaxing, _Soraka thought, relieved. The meditative atmosphere would surely help clear her head.

She was wrong — she and Nami came to a halt in the doorway.

The voice floated towards them. "Not so strong now, are you?" _CRACK. _

The healers exchanged glances.

_Oh, dear. _Soraka sighed through her nose and took Nami's hand. _Best to get it over with. _

It was as bad as expected. In a meditation chamber to the right of the living room, Riven was bent over a luscious red-velvet recliner, wearing only her new brown pumps. The heels on them pushed the muscles of her butt out — the healers could see them tighten and relax in anticipation of Syndra's next strike.

Her wrists and ankles were lashed roughly together by someone who didn't have Noxus' elegant knowledge of bondage. The knots were rough, but still tightly chafed against Riven's skin.

And they were effective. She struggled as Syndra brought the broad brown paddle down on her taut backside, writhing even harder as the strokes increased in frequency. The sound of the birch on skin was hard and flat. Riven's ass jiggled each time.

Syndra blew white hair out of her face and squeezed Riven's ass with both hands, muttering something about power. Riven's cheeks were turning a warm, cherry red that flushed her from the top of her curves to her lower thighs.

Soraka and Nami watched as Syndra's hand pulled at something hot-pink and wet between Riven's legs. It took Soraka a moment to realize it was a vibrator, something she wasn't terribly familiar with. She thought it was a big one, though.

The healer glanced at Nami, who had her mouth covered with both petite hands. All of her fins were quivering, her blue-green tail swishing back and forth. She was horrified and fascinated.

_Not the way I wanted her introduced to human sexual contact. _Soraka loudly cleared her throat and was promptly ignored. Syndra's fingertips were busy flicking at Riven's engorged clit, squeezing her inner lips tighter around the length of the vibrator. Riven's stomach contracted in waves. She was sweating.

Then Syndra grabbed her hair and pulled it hard. "I'll show you broken." She ripped the vibrator out and slid her fingers into its place, sliding them in and out again and again. There was a wet noise — Riven was dripping. She whimpered as an orgasm rocked her body, the pleasure so strong it made Nami cringe.

"_Tsk._" Soraka pulled Nami away.

The mermaid was still gaping. "SorakaIdon'tthinkIcando —"

"It's not all like that," Soraka said automatically, then snapped her mouth shut. She didn't know from personal experience, did she?

She had only Sona's lovely memories, shared late one night while they blushed and giggled like schoolgirls instead of healers, of her hundreds of times with Saint Garamond. The memories were so vivid it felt like Soraka had been with him — his sandy blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, his muscles that were firm but not hard, his strong jaw and shoulders. The perfect Demacian Knight before he became the perfect Demacian Saint.

He was always gentle. Even when his breath quickened and his cock — slightly too thick for Sona, but she enjoyed it — slid in and out between her damp thighs. He always cupped her chin or kissed her cheeks, or brought her to orgasm with his light touch. Sometimes he would pull away and simply admire Sona's body as she trembled. He would stroke her hair, trace it down to her nipples, and pinch them. But never too hard.

Now, _there _was a man none of the Supports would have problems being intimate with. Then again, it was doubtful a Demacian Saint would cause thousands of people around him to fornicate. It was a pity he was dead to the hand of an unstable 15-year-old.

Soraka shook her head, trying not to think of Caelyn and the grief his memory bode. It never stopped. He'd killed almost half a million people.

_Press on. _She rapped smartly on Yi and Karma's door. Behind them, Riven's voice rose in waves of orgasmic ecstasy. Nami was taking deep breaths.

"Soraka —"

"It doesn't have to be like that. That's why we're sending Janna with Ezreal, remember?"

Nami didn't have time to reply. Karma opened the door, wearing a loosely belted bathrobe, her hair in damp wraps. Her eyes widened in surprise. She waved them inside.

Yi was sitting in a meditative pose, but it was clear from the water on his neck that they'd just come from a bath together.

_Not that there's anything wrong with that, _Soraka thought, reminding herself that she had sanctioned Karma and Yi's union. She took a seat in a recliner with Ionian dragons for arms and began to explain the situation. She tried to ignore Nami's steadily blushing fins — the arousal in the air was getting to her, too.

Then it happened — Nami's fear. Master Yi listened, jaw clenching tighter and tighter, until he shouted "Absolutely not!"

Soraka was stunned. "But —"

"Not unless she is the final option." He put a protective arm around Karma's shoulders and nodded towards them. "And I see two other options before her. Trying to get my wife to soothe a Noxian, after the strikes on her home town — fah!" He shoved both of them out of their room and slammed the door. Behind him, Karma's mouth was open in a soft _o_ of shock.

Nami shook. Her deeply-colored eyes swam with sudden tears. "But —"

"Come on." Soraka sighed. "We've got to be like Kha'Zix and adapt."

"I don't want to be a bug!"

Soraka dragged her past Riven and Syndra again. Riven had sex toys jammed deep into both of her holes and was caterwauling. Soraka covered Nami's questing eyes, shaking her head.

_A mess, _Soraka thought. _A damned mess. _

* * *

Ryland dreamt he was in a forest. He opened his eyes to what had to be a nature spirit patting his head. The boy was golden-haired, bare-chested and bare-footed, thinner than him, petite and small, in faded jeans. He leaned near Ryland, green eyes bright and curious.

"Whtchcdere?"

Ryland blinked. He was transfixed by the blush playing along the boy's cheeks — it reminded him of the apple blossom yarrow that grew along the sunny streets of Demacia. The soft pink of his lips was marred only by a tiny, dark freckle.

Frowning slightly, the boy tried again. "Dyntstanme?"

Ryland shook his head. "I have no idea what you're saying. None."

The boy grumbled and dropped in the dirt beside him, muttering "Skylnstanmaccent." He puffed a strand of hair from his face. Ryland watched the leaves rustle in a balmy springtide wind, shadows rippling across their bodies. He himself was shirtless, but his usual embarrassment slowly faded into distraction.

_He can't be human, _Ryland thought. _He's too beautiful. _He tried to stop himself, but his hand moved of its own accord to the boy's ribs. His fingers traced them. The skin was smooth and soft. He snuggled closer to Ryland and murmured something else incomprehensible.

"Do you have a name?"

The boy gazed up at Ryland, and the loveliness of his green eyes made Ryland's heart stutter to a stop.

_Thud - th —_

He couldn't breathe, but — it was pleasant.

"Aven." The boy rolled his eyes. "'S'ifyin't'kentat."

_Holy shit. Are those even words? _Ryland hesitated, then decided it didn't matter. He wrapped his long, bony hands around the boy's thin waist and pulled him nearer, chest to chest. Their skin was warm from the sun.

He kissed him and was deeply pleased when the boy didn't pull away. Instead, Aven relaxed into him, pressed himself to Ryland's bony chest without a pause. His hands kneaded Ryland's skin. It was incredibly calming.

Aven's kisses were slow, sweet, soothing. He reminded Ryland of naps taken in slants of sunshine, fireflies aglow along the banks of a river, a hazy mid-summertide evening.

And light.

Ryland accidentally grabbed his delicate wrists too roughly — so hard he felt the bones creak — and flinched away from him. "I — Sorry. I can usually control myself." He blushed so hard it hurt.

Aven blinked and shook his head. "Y — oh, why 'm I even tryin' t'talk? You're fine, is what I meant t'say."

_The kiss translated him. But that accent. The Pilt. Gods, the rumors about people not understanding them at all are true. _He took a deep breath. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Skylan. Gods above. Dream world turns y'into a skinny prude and me into a Pilt hermit."

_Skylan? _Ryland shook his head and kissed him again. _Close enough. _

He took his wrists and rubbed them gently, then brushed his lips across the delicate skin of his neck. Aven was scented of pine and snow — a recent pilgrim from the Freljord. Ryland felt him shiver, heard a soft purr start in his chest, and deepened his kisses. His mouth moved from Aven's neck to his thin, feather-light breastbone. Aven's breath quickened, as did his pulse.

_Being on top is great, _part of Ryland thought. _I get to decide whether or not anyone's in pain. _

He kissed Aven's lips deeply one more time and was suddenly overwhelmed with lust as cold and black as a winter's eve. The voice seemed to come from somewhere else. The space between the stars, maybe.

_Bite him. _

_What? No. _Ryland nuzzled his hair and fought the urge. _I'm not Katarina. _

_Make him bleed. _

_Nope. _Ryland looked at his nature-perfect face. Aven's eyes were closed in contentment.

Ryland was torn. He began to shake.

Aven cracked an eye open and smiled slightly. "Y'be Noxian. I'm used t'you by now."

"I —" _don't know you_, Ryland almost said, but that was a lie. This was supposed to have happened, in a different story, perhaps, that had grown too long.

"Holding back only makes it worse for you." Aven pressed his forehead to Ryland's. "Shouldn't resist. It be in y'blood."

Ryland's tongue lingered on Aven's pulsepoint. He could feel the mild arrhythmia — a heritable trait.

Then he let his teeth sink lightly into the flesh there. Aven's accompanying sigh of pleasure tore at Ryland's healer restraint. He quivered.

And he bit Aven harder and covered the boy's mouth with his hand when his moans became too loud. The rest of their bodies were entwined — Ryland found himself squeezing the nape of Aven's neck, holding him captive before him as he ravished his mouth with his tongue.

_I'm broken, _Ryland thought in despair. _This story's broken. They're all broken if this is happening. _He paused and was embarrassed that he was shaking and hard.

_Splintered a bit, _Aven thought to him. He smiled shyly up at Ryland. _But They're still a-weavin'. Whether we like it or no. Y'can't give up yet. _He nipped him. Feeling sick, Ryland pressed his fingertip to the bead of blood on Aven's collarbone. He was quivering too.

_But —_

_I love thee, moon son. _Aven grinned.

"I love you, too," Ryland murmured.

"Wow, that's fucking gay."

Ryland opened his eyes — for real this time — to Ezreal. In fresh green-black plaid sleep pants and mussed hair. The Explorer pounced on him. He had that wild, hyper look in his eyes that Ryland both dreaded and enjoyed. "Ew. You're hard."

"Do Pilts not get morningwood? Is that not a thing?"

"You're just gay. It's alright." Ezreal rolled onto his back and snuggled into Ryland's collarbone. His thigh was infuriatingly close to Ryland's dick. "No — fuck. I'm kidding. I forgot not to joke about that stuff."

Ryland took two deep breaths. His jaw didn't unclench."Ez? Why are you on top of me?"

"Dunno. It's a good thing you're totally straight, though. I don't wanna get raped." Ezreal grinned and Ryland almost punched him. "Shhh. Listen."

"But what do I do?" Nami squeaked outside Ryland's bedroom door. "I don't even know the basics!"

"We'll let Sona go first. She has the most — experience." Soraka coughed the last word. "Then Karma, then you. You may not even be necessary." She paused, then said heavily, "I presume you understand your duties, Janna?"

"Oh, sweetheart, do I." Janna's voice was breathy with pleasure. "I'm about to get to know them better."

"The important thing is not to scare them. Ezreal shouldn't be a problem —"

"What?" Ezreal whispered, wide-eyed. Ryland hushed him.

"But Katarina's approach to intimacy leaves our knowledge of Ryland — lacking." Soraka lowered her voice. "It has to happen today. Understand?"

There was a chorus of _yes_'s, some hesitant, others less so, then murmurs as they dispersed.

"What in fuck?" Ryland murmured.

"Healers aren't supposed to swear." Ezreal nudged him.

"Yeah, and they're not supposed to talk about people like that, either."

"But what are they talking about?"

Ryland paused, reliving the taste of the nature spirit boy's tender throat. He shook his head to clear it. "Dunno. We should get ready. For whatever it is."

* * *

Sona rubbed her temples. _I don't know how I feel about Noxians. Not after Saint Garamond's death. He's healer Ryland first and foremost, though, isn't he? _

As she walked to her room, she thought back on recent meditations.

The mental connection they all shared had made it slightly awkward after he and Kat started having sex. Sona and the Supports were in Circular Prayer – the most serious kind, where they tied their consciousness to Soraka as she implored the gods to bless them. But the peaceful channels were continually flooded with images from the four times Ryland and Kat had slept together.

They all saw Kat kissing him desperately, her lips roving over his. When he tried to pull away, she pulled him back, biting him, letting her tongue brush against his lower lip. She kissed him until he begged for her to stop. Then she sat, tracing the swollen, painful curve of his mouth with satisfaction.

They saw her rip his shirt off and hold him beneath her by his wrists. He struggled against her, but finally submitted. Her hips grinded against his until he moaned. She had laughed at him, then, a curtain of brilliant red hair enclosing their two faces. When the tension grew too great for Kat to stand, she pressed her breast against his open mouth.

"I'm gonna ride you 'til you beg for mercy," they heard her growl during Soraka's prayer. The healer stumbled over a couple words. Taric tugged at the collar of his shirt with a cough, blushing furiously. Sona looked over to see Karma's hands clenched atop of her quivering thighs. Janna was openly grinning. _If meditation was always like this, I'd come more often, _Janna thought, gazing at Ryland. _In both senses of the word. _

Sona had sneaked a glance at him then – solely for informational purposes, she told herself. His head was bowed demurely. When he saw the other Supports looking at him, he flushed. But he couldn't stop the flow of memories.

Especially not the one where Kat tied his wrists to the posters of her bed. He couldn't move. Her lips started at the base of his throat and slowly moved downward, over his bare chest to his trembling lower belly. Her emerald eyes were glittering with pure Noxian lust.

As her lips grazed the head of his swollen dick, he gasped, trying to free himself from the scarves. The sensation was too intense. Kat's smile grew.

He looked at her over his heaving chest. "Kat – I – "

"Shut up." She unzipped his pants with her teeth and rubbed his head against her lips, letting it play across her mouth like lipstick.

And Sona (and Janna, Karma, Taric and Soraka) saw the helpless flush of his cheeks, and heard his little sighs of pleasure deepen into moans. Sona reflected that he had the most adorable sex face she'd ever seen, besides Garamond's – lips pressed together, dark hair spilling across his forehead. He bit his bottom lip when Katarina looked up at him to gauge his reaction. He was obviously embarrassed.

And Kat was so obviously enjoying tormenting him, teasing him to the point of climax, then forcing him back down. When she couldn't stand it any longer, she got on top of him and abruptly shoved his dick all the way inside of her, her fingers curled into his dark black hair. Ryland panted.

Soraka had finished reading the prayer a while ago, but no one had noticed. She coughed loudly as Katarina whispered, "Beg for it, you slut." Sona was a touch disappointed that the memory wasn't allowed to finish – for non-lust related reasons, of course. She and the other Supports should be aware if Katarina was abusing Ryland.

Soraka dismissed them and looked curiously at her student. Sona strained to hear her as she walked back towards her Quarters.

"I take if you're enjoying your relationship with Katarina?" Soraka asked softly.

"Um…yes."

Sona reflected that was one meditation no one would forget.

As she headed for her bed, she relished the feel of the warm, summertide grass beneath her bare feet. A robin was chirping cheerfully above her, and she paused to listen to it, her sensitive ears hearing each tiny alteration in pitch and tone.

Her muscles were stretched and tender from the physical meditation earlier in the morning. She understood the intention of the meditations, but couldn't quite bring herself to enjoy them. They made her blood flow too freely, in her opinion.

The bikini she'd worn for the sun worship seemed a bit too tight, but in a pleasurable way. She felt the cloth and the sweat chafing at her nipples and her lower parts, nipping at her skin. She realized with a rising blush that Ryland's origins suddenly didn't matter. Ryland was, in fact, desirable, in a purely carnal sense.

_Lust weakens your healing powers, Sona, _she chided herself. _It is possible to undertake this without being consumed yourself. And he's little more than a child. _

But between the hot, hazy spring sun and Ryland's memories she realized, for the moment, that she didn't care. Well, almost. She still felt a touch of guilt as she shut the door to her room and padded towards her washroom.

Every Support had an inner sanctum, and this was hers. Her large, blue-green clawfoot tub sat directly under a skylight, so the sky could pour its blessings onto her naked body. It was opposite a tall, stately mirror, framed with wrought iron. Pictures of instruments over the ages covered the forest-green walls.

She felt the urge building inside of her and resigned herself to it with a sigh.

_I don't do this terribly often. I'd better make it count. Besides, it might be good practice for — it. _

She unhooked her white top and tossed it aside. Her breasts bounced, and she felt tension ease out of her body as they were released from their bindings. Sometimes it was difficult to restrain them.

She peeled the lower half of the bikini off, revealing her smooth lips and round bottom. She knew Supports weren't supposed to be ashamed of their bodies, but the largeness of her butt made it difficult to perform the same meditations as Karma and Janna. They didn't understand why she began to sweat lightly after three or four curl-ups, not realizing that her boobs pressed the air out of her lungs with each contortion.

Bending over, she started the water in the tub. The rushing sound soothed her. As she prepared the various bath salts and herbs, she heard the voice of one of her three lovers pipe up in her mind.

Garamond. He was a fierce warrior with a tender touch. In the months they'd spent together, he spent many hours lying atop her bed, tracing the curves of her body again and again. The orgasms he'd given her had surprised her, as they seemed to arise from being so relaxed beneath his hand.

One time, after her body was finished cresting with pleasure, he quietly said, _The key to pleasing yourself is doing whatever your body wants, even if it seems strange at first. _His soft smile curled into his blonde goatee.

_Well, I suppose he was right, _Sona thought. _I'll try it. _

She stood in front of her mirror curiously, examining her body from head to toe. She wasn't sure she saw what most men did. She was curvier than most women, she thought, pushing her hair away from the swells of her breasts. And though the women envied her, her breasts made her chest and back ache.

_And I ache for a different reason, too. _

She pressed her thumb to her bottom lip, as Kat had done with Ryland, then moistened it with the tiny tip of her tongue. She watched her reflection draw a slow circle around the rosy nipple of her right breast. Her fingertip traced the outer edge, where the pink met white.

Somehow, it only made her ache more. Her breath came faster as she tightened the circle, then let her thumb press to its very peak. Her pink lips parted a bit. It felt good, but somehow…not satisfying.

Her mind flashed to Ryland's large hands. They were musician's hands – wide and slim-fingered, able to reach the broadest chord of a mandolin or coax the daintiest sound from the strings of an _etwahl. _

Her body abruptly flushed with desire. She watched it bloom in the space between her collarbone and breast. It was a faint, dawn-colored hue at first, then deepened to a scarlet blush of lust and shame. She shouldn't be thinking of a fellow healer like this, even with her mission. She shouldn't, but —

_He was so kind. Dark and handsome. His fear and loneliness made him so vulnerable, so eager to be touched. Even the slightest brush of skin on skin was enough to make him smile. _

She came out of her trance of arousal and realized she was standing in front of her mirror, lips open in a soft 'O,' her nipples as hard as they ever had been. She blushed even harder as she realized the space between her thighs was wet.

_His warm hands to grasp her and pull her against him, covering her forehead and cheeks with warm kisses. His fingers tugging at her nipples, cupping the full weight of her breasts. Massaging them, nuzzling them. It didn't have to hurt. _

_She could show him the light side of love. What Garamond had showed her. _

She was biting her lip. Behind her, the first drops of water were spilling to the ground with high, musical notes. She rushed towards the brass faucet and shut it off, then dumped some Kaladownian mint extract into the bath water. She hoped the scent would calm her down.

She lowered her body into the water with a sigh and tried to relax. But she couldn't. Her body was at unease.

_Oh, gods. Is this how the Noxians feel all the time? _

A part of her whispered, _Ryland's half-Noxian. _

She pressed her palms to her cheeks, trying to stop the blush.

After a few hesitant moments, she let her legs dangle over the edge of the tub, and watched the minty bubbles cling playfully to her hips and the tops of her breasts. Her almond-colored hair swirled around her in the water, waving as the salty sweat faded away, leaving her silken skin rosy pink and clean.

And still that feeling. _Do what your body wants, _the knight had whispered. He'd been beautiful in his own way. Both of them were. Light and dark.

She took the small, light-blue sponge lying to her right into her hands and kneaded it, then spread her legs and pressed it against her clit. She moved it in a circle, spilling some of the water out of the tub. The friction built inside of her as she found a pace and pattern her body liked, her insides trembling.

She leaned back and let the sun fall on her face and neck again, then dropped the sponge. Her fingers fumbled for her sweet spot, but the pleasurable sensation was gone, replaced by strange tingles when her fingertips brushed against her swollen lips. She felt a moment of frustration and despair.

_I was never good at it, _she thought distantly, as the water caressed her thighs. _I bet it comes naturally to Kat. _

She flinched when she heard a knock on the door.

_Sona? _

As if she'd summoned him – without wearing purple robes, or anything at all, really – Ryland was at her door. She sat bolt upright, her hands covering her breasts. More mint-scented water fell to the floor.

_I wasn't — I knew it was today, but so soon? _

She felt a moment of hesitation, born in part of her fondness for him. Besides his beauty, Ryland was very sensitive to her muteness. He made sure to commune with her through his mind or music, never using his voice around her unless she asked him to. His sweetness made her thighs ache.

_ But should I? Is it wrong when I feel like this? Shouldn't I rid myself of lust? _But she couldn't resist. _I'm still very mortal, and very, very human. _

_ Come in. _

He did so, stepping carefully around her priceless instruments. She couldn't play the Shurimanan Cello, but had been glad that she bought it when Ryland sat down and brought the strings to life.

He paused. _Where are you? _

_ In here. _Her thighs clenched together in the tub, the hot water mixing with her own sweet fluid. It was actually happening. She glanced up through the sunlight and sent a brief prayer of thanks to the celestial gods.

_Soraka sent these books over, and I – _

The knob on the door turned, and Ryland stumbled in, carrying a stack of books up to his collarbone. When he saw her resting naked in the tub, surveying him with a small smile, he dropped them.

"Oh. Sona. I – " he began verbally, then switched to his mental voice. Sona let a soft aura of calming reach out to him. She didn't want him to bolt. _I can leave now. _

_ I would prefer if you didn't, _she sent back, twirling her hair around her fingers. She enjoyed looking at him. She searched for the correct tone to use, and finally settled on something between a chiding teacher and a schoolgirl. _You've definitely garnered some attention lately. Everyone seems to be - a bit freer than usual. _

_ Oh. That. I'm terribly sorry. _He flushed. _I didn't mean to disturb the order around here. I – am I going to get kicked out? _His eyes wandered to her breasts and he covered his eyes with his hand. She saw his Adam's apple shift as he swallowed hard.

_No, Ryland. I just thought I'd inform you of the strengthening of our mortal desires – including my own. _

_ For me? _

_Yes, _she whispered. _Would you – Do you find me desirable at all? _

_Well, you're very beautiful. I've always thought that. _He shifted his feet. Sona smiled as she saw an erection beginning to press lightly against the front of his pants. _Talented, too. And kind. _

_You may uncover your eyes, _she said with a laugh. _I have no shame. _

_I noticed. _He looked at her, admiring her lines the way he might admire the craftsmanship of a fine instrument. A curvaceous darkwood viola, perhaps. Her shape was the same as the melodious instrument – a narrow throat connected to widening shoulders, flaring out to hips, then coming to a close with a round bottom.

She saw his eyes linger on her breasts and felt another warm pulse of desire. It flowed from her pores, it seemed, rich and gold. It was reflected in him. He echoed the lust back to her in a slightly different way, a mysterious melody that seemed to hang in the spring air between them.

She didn't feel ashamed anymore. The lingering traces of guilt were gone, replaced by his strong, calm presence. _Will I interfere with Kat at all?_

_No. She's been encouraging me to seek out other women since I met her. Though I doubt she had you in mind. _He came to her side and brushed her cheek. His fingers slid lightly around the pink shell of her ear, then cupped the nape of her neck. He rested his other hand between her legs, searching patiently for the center of her desire.

Her body twitched as his fingers ran across it. Her thighs clenched around his hand as a momentary flush of shame seized her once more. He kissed her forehead and worked her legs apart. He was gentle but insistent, murmuring in her ear to allay her fear.

She felt her body break into gooseflesh as he massaged her outer lips, then rub against the opening of her vagina. She sighed in pleasure. There, at last, was the right feeling.

His rubbing took on a circular pattern. Then he pinched lightly at the point where her arousal seemed concentrated.

Her back arched as her cheeks and breasts flushed again. His hand slipped from her neck to the middle of her back, pressing against her to steady her. He looked at her with a faint smile, and watched as Sona's eyes slipped closed, and her mouth parted.

Then he looked away as her body quivered. His hand rested at the apex of her orgasm – her body moved around it. When she opened her eyes and saw his shyness, she said, _You can look at me, Ryland. I give you permission. _

She put her arms around his neck, ignoring the water pattering onto his shirt. Her voice in his mind was musical, insistent, as light as the notes of her etwahl. She cupped his chin and turned him towards her.

She felt a deeper desire course through her as she watched his eyes darken and felt his breath become slower as he gazed upon her.

The Demacian knight had never looked at her like that.

* * *

Her body was so different from Kat's. Whereas the assassin's breasts were small and taut, Sona's crested the water, luscious, white, perfect globes that reminded Ryland of the moon. There was little difference, save for their inviting, pink peaks.

Her buttocks were likewise round, and her thighs welcomingly thick. Ryland suddenly felt lightheaded – customary, when Kat was teasing him.

Her eyes were similarly darkened, her glossy pupils expanding to touch the edge of her irises. The expression was startling on her usually calm and placid face.

Ryland shrugged out of his shirt and pants with scarcely a second thought. It was in his blood, after all.

Kat had scolded him yesterday for his idea of monogamy. The king he was named after was infamous for his sexual escapades – though Ryland doubted that his gentle conquering of this soft-skinned musician really qualified.

Being with Sona just felt right, on a level he couldn't explain.

He stood before her naked. He caught a glimpse of himself in her mirror and winced. He didn't see what Kat – and apparently Sona – did.

But Sona rubbed herself as she studied him. His lean lines and muscles were a sweet counterpoint to her full-bodiedness. She rose from the tub and pressed her dripping body against his. She found his mouth with hers and kissed him.

They weren't Kat's urgent, fiery ones, but loving ones instead. Kisses that let Ryland savor the sweetness of her lips. _Someone else gentle._ He leaned into her, nuzzling her. His only moment of pause was realizing that he wanted affection and not just sex. _Um. I'm — sorry, but —_

She felt his mind and smiled warmly, stroking his hair and the back of his neck. His night-black tresses should have alarmed her. _Noxian _— the blood-drinkers, murderers.

But his hair was too smooth and soft, his body fragile. His eyes closed in simple pleasure as she cuddled against him.

Then he held her at arm's length and eyed her.

_Alright. I'm — sorry for that. _

_Don't be sorry. _

He felt what she wanted and placed his hands over her buttocks, kneading them. Even with his huge hands, her curves were difficult to tame. His kiss grew more urgent as he cupped her bottom again and again. His erection throbbed against her lower belly.

She enjoyed the feeling of his desire, which played against her mind like a song from the enigmatic southern sea, rising from his recently-healed mind like fog at dawn.

She moved his hands to her breasts. Beads of water were still rolling off of them.

She shivered as Ryland licked one of these away, then another. Soon, the warmth of his tongue erased any chill she felt from standing in the open air as it caressed one nipple, then the other.

She would have moaned then, as Kat did. But she couldn't. She settled for stroking his jaw until her nipples were bright pink and swollen from his kisses.

She tugged on his hair. _Come to bed with me, Ryland. _

_As you wish. _

He followed her silent steps with his own, watching her buttocks bounce in front of him. He was hopelessly hard.

And curious about what was going to happen. With Kat, it was always predictable: violent, passionate, painful, explosive. But Sona's eyes and desires were mysterious.

He lay beside her. The blanket was a dark forest green that complimented her smooth skin. The spring sun had reached its height, and the light slanting in from the side window was a peaceful gold. Shadows rolled over Sona's snowy body as clouds brushed against the sun.

She placed her head on his collarbone. Her body was still aching from the orgasm earlier, and the meditations.

He held her then, letting her nuzzle his chest. He almost flinched when he felt her own mouth returning the favor, nipping at his chest playfully.

He found himself caressing her hair. He wanted to push her mouth on to his dick, but resisted – it was the Noxian side of him talking.

Sona caught the thought anyways, and cocked her head. _Someone once told me to do whatever your body wanted. _

_I would never put my desire before others. _He saw her eyes widen and cursed himself for sounding so serious. _Besides, that'd be rather rude, wouldn't it? _

_Or perhaps enjoyable. _She took him into her mouth and let her dainty tongue wrap around his head. Ryland's pulse quickened. His fingers went deeper into her dark auburn tresses, but he was careful not to pull them.

_Not after hurting Aven's wrists, _he thought. _No more hurting people. _

It became increasingly difficult as Sona lowered her mouth, easing him into her throat. He began to pant as he edged even deeper. Her mouth and tongue were warm and wet, and her throat moved around him, accommodating his swelling erection.

She closed her lips and moved back up. Her lips slid across his entire shaft once, twice. The rhythm became inexorable. He tried to keep quiet, for Sona's sake. Though their union was surrounded by springtide silence – that of cicadas whirring and crickets chirping – their minds had melded into one sweet melody that was almost as pleasurable as Sona sucking his dick.

_I — I can't, _Ryland realized, horrified. He fought it, but his hand settled onto the back of Sona's neck and squeezed it hard, sending a dull ache through her shoulders. She looked up at him in alarm as he shoved himself all the way into her. He seemed to throb to the beat of her heart.

He wanted to hold her there, to use her like a toy, but he struggled against it. He eventually won. She pulled away from him, gasping.

"I don't — I'm sorry. Oh, gods, I'm sorry." He covered his face and blushed with shame.

_Can't let him slip away, _Sona thought dazedly. _Ryland, it's fine. Truly. Relax._

"But —" He remembered she was mute. _But — _

She resumed her rhythm, but added squeezing to it. Eventually the sensation became so intense that Ryland couldn't help gasping. He tensed up and waited for Kat to tease him about it, then realized that Sona's enormous breasts were resting against the tops of his thighs.

The dark again.

He pushed her down and climbed on top of her, lips resting against her pulse point. He was panting. He felt her seize up beneath him and rushed to soothe her. His hands rubbed her stomach until she was calm again.

_Gracious, _she thought. _Is this what the Noxians do? _

He smiled slightly and kissed the tip of her nose. His chest felt cold. "Close."

Her soft smile back set his mind at ease. He guided his dick inside of her, shuddering when he touched her warmth. She was almost dripping. The Maven of the Strings enjoyed sucking him as much as Katarina did.

For some reason, this idea stuck with Ryland, teasing him. He pushed deeper, feeling Sona shift beneath him. She bore the pressure, then gasped as it gave way to pleasure.

_You're so…thick. _

He didn't respond, but grabbed her bottom and dragged her upward, his length reaching all the way in. Her back arched again. She gasped as he filled her body completely. She was brimming.

And she was deeply startled when Ryland bit her neck.

He felt her muscles tighten around him. His body and mind were overwhelming hers, enveloping her will – her breasts were pushed against his face, jiggling with each thrust. His quiet moans in Sona's ear made her skin tingle.

He felt her release. The air rushed past her lips tiny, sweet gasps. He came then, too, shuddering as the orgasm rocked his body. He rested against her chest, panting, unable to move. The force of his climax had deadened the nerves in his body.

_Ryland. _She hugged him. It made his tired nerve-endings wince, but he enjoyed it. _It's okay._

_It's not alright. _He closed his eyes with a groan. _Healers aren't supposed to — _

_There may be — _

_No. _He cuddled against her. Even through his blanket of shame, he sought affection. _I'll make it right.__ I'll fix it. _


	7. An Oceanic Encounter

_PLEASE READ:__The epic lemon fest at the Institute continues at the __**third page break**_. If you're looking for a good time, **just skip to there.**

_**Page break 2-3**__ contains my OC vision of Noxus, which __**has basically nothing to do with this story. **_

Why is it in here? Because everything, including my porn, has to be long (ha) and needlessly complicated. And because writing is cheaper than therapy and just as effective, which is to say "not at all."

Also, this one goes out to my man xDiv (though I'm not sure how he's gonna feel about having a chapter full of lemons dedicated to him).

Eternally Yours,

vOceanic

* * *

"Sir?"

"Mmm?" Zandred looked up from the latest transcribed complaint. _…Female half-cougar and female half-dragon fornicating noisily outside my window. Loud grunting and mewing. Interrupted my slumber. Called internal police after twenty minutes — was afraid to interfere. _

_Sure you were, _Zandred thought sourly.

Erinae's lips were swollen from excess kisses, her blonde hair mussed and shiny in the morning light. She cleared her throat and put on her snooty Secretary Voice. "We've received word that the official envoy is on its way, m'lord. They should arrive tomorrow."

"Lovely." Zandred gazed at the stack of paper moodily. Every sex act known to man — and a few that weren't — had been glimpsed at the Institute, occurring from its slippery ice rink to its shoe store to the cobblestone streets outside. "I'm sure the Demacians will be most pleased that we've turned into a harem."

"Maybe not the Demacians, sir." Erinae's grin made Zandred's heart flutter. He scowled. He was four times her age. "But the Noxians might be."

"True." Zandred paused. "And the Zaunians."

Her golden eyes began to glow. "And I don't think the Piltovers will care, and the Freljord —"

"We've still got to stop it, Erin." Zandred closed his eyes. He didn't have to look to see her face darken with disappointment.

"Fine," she huffed. "Geez. I'll see what I can do."

* * *

General Demetrius Falin, current Commander of Noxus, looked into his silver-lined boudoir mirror with what he hoped was an impressive frown. He was in his dress uniform, a night-black suit with gold-fringed epaulets on his shoulders. His war medals hung in perfect rows. His boots were shined, his white gloves clean and crisp, and —

He sighed. _Of course they would send the most reclusive, awkward man on the planet to represent his country. I'll do nothing more than to convince them to tear us to pieces. _

"Cheer up, master." Caelyn Falin imitated Demetrius' solemn scowl into the looking glass. It looked much scarier on his lean, bony face, with those pale green eyes almost the color of frost. "They'll love you. Or at least pretend to. They are Demacian, after all."

The General tried to meet Caelyn's eyes in the mirror and was unsurprised when the boy looked away. "Child. Are you sure you're going to be able to behave yourself?"

"Of course, sir." The words were spoken perfectly demurely, but there was a glint of wild energy in his gaze Demetrius didn't care for.

Caelyn Falin was a fully decorated, honorably-discharged Noxian General at the age of seventeen. Though he had returned to his boy servant status, Demetrius wasn't sure how wise it was to bring him along on a diplomatic mission, even if he had been out of the military for two years.

_He's nineteen now? Gods, we're both getting so old… _

Caelyn looked innocent, petite and wiry, comfortably at home in his tailored vest and crimson tie, a Willow-Dove tucked beneath Demetrius' arm.

But the General knew that the Demacians had a — well, a peculiar habit of dying when Caelyn was around. A predisposition for catching fire. Or for suddenly developing heart defects. Usually fatal.

He watched Caelyn intently finger-comb his red-gold hair with his scarred hands and sighed through his nose.

_Yes. Most peculiar indeed. _

The boy leaned against Demetrius' side and looked away, his eyelashes fluttering. It wasn't flirtation. He had a fleet of nervous tics. "Sir, if I may be so bold —"

Demetrius huffed, and Caelyn smiled slightly. Still wouldn't look him in the face, though.

" — you're handsome when you frown, but more so when you smile."

"Is that your expert opinion?"

"Aye, sir."

He cupped the boy's chin and forced him to look at him. A faint, shy pink filled Caelyn's cheeks, dimming his freckles. He was starry-eyed. Even though Demetrius knew that Caelyn had slaughtered half a million people, Caelyn looked almost — cute.

Demetrius huffed again. "What _is _it with you children and this uniform?"

The Willow-Doves were instantly moonstruck by the sight of Demetrius in dress black. Not the other Generals — just him. At the monthly military banquets, Demetrius watched the golden-haired serving boys glance at him, then away, faces burning.

Jennings' Boy had actually walked straight into a building column, he was staring so hard at Demetrius. It was only Jennings' Boy — famous for confusing Darius for his General and cuddling against the bemused Hand of Noxus until Jennings dragged him away — but still.

And when Demetrius went to help him with his bloody nose (for it was Demetrius alone who noticed these things), Jennings' Boy stood there with a grin even dumber than his usual one, wordless. The General looked up to find himself surrounded by shiny-eyed, waistcoated young men carrying cake and wine, peering at him with a mixture of adoration and hesitance. Linnaeus, Asher, Chase, Tyler, Ryan, Wren, Sterling — Demetrius was the only General who knew all their names. They scattered when he noticed them, fled with a sound like fluttering wings.

The other Generals noticed their children's shifting attention if not their cuts and scrapes. A few of them clapped Demetrius on the back and inquired half-jokingly what sort of cologne he was wearing, or whether or not he was witching their Doves.

When Demetrius looked askance at his own Willow-Dove, he was unnerved to find Caelyn wearing the same expression of shy reverence. Timid, though he was also in his dress black, his chest coated with four times as many medals as his master. Equally ranked.

Demetrius didn't understand it, but had to admit that the ranks of bashful blonde boys were charming.

In, of course, a peculiar way. Much of Demetrius' life was peculiar.

So thinking, he cupped the nape of Caelyn's neck and kissed him. The boy kissed him back, burning, feverish, artless kisses, absolutely no form at all. Only a deep, deep craving for affection. He pressed his body to Demetrius' dress coat, nuzzling his jaw until the General clasped his white-gloved hands atop the small of Caelyn's back. The sound of starched cloth rustling joined the birdsong.

Demetrius' green eyes held a trace of humor. "Going to lose your balance, Fallen Swordsman?"

Caelyn had to stand on his tiptoes to reach Demetrius' face. He tried to frown but couldn't. His heart was beating too hard. "No, sir. I would prefer —"

"If I didn't tease you about your height?" Demetrius' lips met his, and Caelyn felt warmth bloom in the very center of his chest, spreading to his mangled fingers like a wave of liquid sunshine. Then his breath warmed Caelyn's ear. "All the dedication in the world can't grow you a whit higher."

"C - can't —" _help that you're so damn tall, _is what Caelyn wanted to say. He was starting to shake and hated himself. He was always so quivery compared to Sir's calm, steady movements. When his knees gave way, Demetrius caught him, pressing his cheek to his and massaging his rough-scarred hands.

He could lightly mock Caelyn for his height, but the tics, the shakes, the strange, curved eyeteeth denoting the boy's werefox origins — these weren't jokes to either of them. He paused in his kisses to soothe the trembling from Caelyn's muscles, his hands starting at the base of his neck and working down his bony ribs.

Caelyn bit his lip to stop his gasp when his fingers slipped beneath his shirt.

Demetrius looked at him mildly. "What is it the ignorant people always tell you? Just relax?"

Caelyn couldn't answer. His teeth were chattering. He wanted to say _you're so handsome, _to show his appreciation for Demetrius' kindness. But he couldn't.

He buried his burning face in the man's military jacket, flushed with shame but still reveling in the dark, exotic notes of his Ionian cologne. _He smells so nice, too. I'm pathetic. _

Demetrius sighed. He stretched out on the bed (uniform wrinkles be damned, let the Demacians complain, see if he cared) and pulled Caelyn down on top of him. He put one warm, huge hand on the back of his neck, the other on his waist, holding him near and steady. Caelyn always fit so snugly against him, occupying the space from Demetrius' knees to his collarbone.

"It's alright," he said. He smoothed Caelyn's bangs away and kissed his forehead. His green eyes were calm, comforting. "You know that."

Still couldn't answer. Caelyn's eyes were wide and dark. His scarred hands kneaded Demetrius' chest. In a fit of frustration with himself, Caelyn pushed his tongue deeper than usual and was startled when Demetrius readily responded, holding him captive, unmoving.

Caelyn went limp and moaned softly. The sound was muffled by the kiss. It was so deep it seemed to be melting him.

Someone politely cleared their throat. "Er. Demetri's, sir." One-eyed Maria, the other servant. An old woman with a thick Bilgewater accent.

"Yes?" Demetrius closed his eyes and held Caelyn's face against his collarbone. Caelyn was still quaking lightly, half anxiety, half anticipation.

"Yer've got a visitor, sir." She sounded deeply uncomfortable, but not from the two of them. She was used to that. Had been for years.

Demetrius sighed heavily. "Could you send them away, perhaps?"

"Sir, I would, I 'sure you." Her hands twisted anxiously together.

"But?" He traced the delicate curve of Caeyln's jaw, smiling sadly when he shuddered. His shaking was terrible today.

_It's the uniform, _Demetrius thought with equal parts satisfaction and pity. _Has to be. Drives him mad. _

Maria took a deep breath. "It's the 'Macian king, sir."

Demetrius blinked. Then he blushed and glanced out his bedroom window. It was open to let the thick summertide heat inside, the damp, tired breeze that sometimes made the windchimes sing softly into the hazy, cicada-cry filled air.

But now it was open for King Jarvan III, his complement of guards, a young Battle Saint and a younger girl, all on horseback, to watch Demetrius and his servant boy embrace. The soldiers' silver mail glittered harshly, even beneath the shade of the larrimore trees. The Battle Saint's left eye was twitching.

And Jarvan's stony visage made Demetrius hesitate, as did the inky darkening of Caelyn's eyes. A shadow eclipsed the faint green.

Then the General got up, banged his knee off his nightstand, upset his pile of books and glass of tea, and sneezed. His Willow-Dove vanished to find their luggage and halt his trembling.

The Demacians would never see Caelyn Falin shake.

Demetrius hurried outside. "Ah, your majesty —" he said, right as King Jarvan said, "Demetrius —" They both stopped and frowned. "Jarvan —" "Your honor —"

"Well, regardless," Demetrius boomed, feeling panic claw at the bottom of his throat. "Good morrow to you."

"And to you." The stony look on Jarvan's face hadn't shifted an inch. "It is my honor to present Saint Garrett, who has completed both his Brightbridge education and his battle saint education at the age of nineteen."

Demetrius' eyebrows rose. The so-called Battle Saint was a fair, rose-cheeked lad on a white pony so beautiful it looked like a toy. His golden hair shone almost as bright as his ivory armor and lake-blue eyes. The silver sword by his side had never been used.

Saint Garrett looked like a knight in miniature — had he been on the battlefield, the Generals would've laughed and sent him away, more likely captured him as Dove. The Noxians didn't kill children.

Though Caelyn had certainly killed his share of Battle Saints. All sixty of the last generation, in fact.

Demetrius shook himself. "Erm. Congratulations, chi — Saint Garrett. That's certainly no easy task."

The boy was openly staring at Demetrius, tracing him from head to toe. Demetrius watched in amazement as the Saint's cheeks flushed — identical to the Willow-Doves, though the two groups couldn't be more opposed to each other. The Battle Saints tried to slaughter the Noxian Generals, and the Willow-Doves worshiped them.

The king's frown deepened. "He complimented you, Saint Garrett."

"I - um - thank you, sir." Saint Garrett cleared his throat and looked away. Glanced at Demetrius through golden hair. His cheeks grew warmer.

_My gods, _Demetrius thought, dumbfounded. _What devilry is this uniform made of? _

He didn't have time to wonder. The guards all clutched their swords, their white stallions prancing backwards. The king's face didn't change.

Caelyn stood in the doorway, two bags slung across his back. He surveyed the guards with utter disdain. His darkest look was reserved for the young Battle Saint, a mixture of contempt and feral disgust.

But Caelyn and the king ignored one another entirely.

_When last they met two years ago, in a makeshift peace conference before Demacia agreed to essentially lose the war, beneath slowly flapping white sheets, among hundreds of steel-jawed, dead-eyed men, on a hot, dark summertide's eve thick with crackling flame and boiling smoke — the king cupped Caelyn's jaw and tilted it upwards. Both sides stopped to watch with eagerness, weariness and fear, a mixture of emotions only battle could bring. Caelyn's breath caught — only Demetrius touched him like that. _

_The king's blue eyes — blue as the angelic pride of Demacia — glinted. He would have one chance to wound the Fallen Swordsman, and one chance only. And the boy — he was waiting, almost as if he expected praise from the king of the country whose men he'd burned, he'd slaughtered. Praise. _

_And affection. Caelyn was conditioned to crave the affection of men. It was all he had. The rest of the Fallen Swordsman was howling static and nothingness, the king believed. A chasm. _

_The king smiled. "The truest tragedy of this war, I think, is that you believe these men love you." _

_Caelyn tried to pull away, but not before the king saw that little widening of his strange clear eyes. A flash of fear breaking through that shifting mask of cool indifference and manic energy. Pain. _

"_You think they care for you, but they don't. You're a murder machine to them." The king felt Caelyn shiver and laughed aloud. "You know it, too. You know it better than any tactics, or Noxian history, or pretty oratory —" _

"_That's enough!" Darius spat, striding towards them. The king saw tears glisten at the corners of Caelyn's eyes._

"_Demetrius can't love a monster," the king murmured into Caelyn's ear. "Look. It's obvious. Look at your hands, child." _

_And Caelyn did. He stared at them by the fire's light, the tears and ridges and whorls. The tattered flesh that peeled off in ugly flakes even now. He'd just wanted them to be nice. Nice for Demetrius. _

_His torn fists clenched. _

_The Noxian Generals were forming together now, like the storm clouds overhead, muttering and grumbling. King Jarvan was wrong, of course. Noxus adored Caelyn just as much as Demacia hated him. _

"_What, did I hurt the little psychopath's feelings?" The king's chest was heaving. He'd seen the mountains of smoking, charred men. His men. His Battle Saints, gone blazing into the Hereafter. His proud Eagle Division in tatters. "Can monsters even feel? Can they?" _

"_Aye," Caelyn said softly. He squared his shoulders and glared at him. "Monsters feel. But not as deeply as your country. The Wheel itself shakes with the lamentations of your dead. And not just these dead." _

"_No?" The king snarled, and Caelyn's laughter suddenly boomed, thundered, four times as loud as the king's earlier. Every Eagle and General turned to stare. _

"_No. Millions and millions of unborn souls have nowhere to go. They wander the void looking for their homes, bodies to house their spirits, and they've got none. These men, their children, their children's children — dust! Ashes! Rotting flesh and blood. And by these." He smiled, baring his fangs. His eyes were red. They flashed. "By these. Millions of souls undone by these very monstrous hands. So aye, I feel, your highness, but your ranks of men — they don't. They can't. They never will." _

_On the slow, quiet carriage ride home to Falin Manor, Demetrius hugged Caelyn tight. It was so dark the General couldn't see him, not even with the famed Noxian night vision. He only felt the boy General sobbing silently and bitterly into his collarbone. _

_Demetrius gritted his teeth. He wished Caelyn would've set the king on fire. "I loved you before the fire, and I love you after it, too, child. I always have. Always will." _

_Caelyn was crying and shaking too hard to talk. Part of him had yearned for the king to embrace him, and Caelyn hated himself. He always did. _

But that was two years ago. There was peace now.

Caelyn turned to Demetrius without otherwise acknowledging them. "Maria is preparing the carriage."

"I — I see."

King Jarvan III coughed. His steely smile didn't reach his eyes. "I didn't realize your boy would be accompanying you, Demetrius."

"Is there a problem?" Caelyn half-smiled. Demetrius watched a shiver travel through the entire company, except the king and the little girl, who looked only curious.

"Not at all," Jarvan III said blandly. "I was thinking Saint Garrett and Queen Belladonna would ride with Sir Demetrius, but I see that won't be the case."

_Queen? _Demetrius looked at the girl, who smiled broadly back at him. Her white pony's blue-gold bridle read _Starlight. _ She was shrouded in gauzy grey-blue silk veils. Her rounded cheeks and pink curved lips told him that she couldn't be more than thirteen, fourteen. _Queen. I suppose Jarvan and I have more in common than I thought. _He wasn't sure how to feel.

Caelyn snorted, but he was clearly disturbed by the idea of Saint Garrett even nearing his master. "There's plenty of room. Saint Garrett would simply have to ride on Demetrius' dick."

The guards flinched. Saint Garrett's face burned pink, then scarlet. The king was unmoved.

Demetrius cleared his throat. _I can still salvage this. It will be alright. _It was this optimism that made him a great tactician.

"I would appreciate if you were kinder to our guests, Caelyn," he said, trying to sound imperious. The boy adored authority.

Still ignoring the king and Saint — he and Demetrius would have to come to blows before he showed Jarvan the slightest sign of respect — Caelyn immediately turned to the girl Queen and bowed.

"My fair lady, the roses blooming in the hills of ancient Iso could be no brighter than the ones in your cheeks, and the stars of Arcturus —"

_Oh no. _Demetrius saw the king's eyebrows arch and coughed loudly.

" — The silver stars of Arcturus shine as the light does in your azure eyes. And your hair — it is the golden threads of sunlight in the east." He slowly approached her, translucent eyes on her face, as if hypnotized. The guards' grasps on their swords tightened. Saint Garret tried to frown, but it was even less convincing than Demetrius'. Belladonna was blushing prettily. "It would be an honor to kiss the hand of —"

"That won't be necessary," Jarvan and Demetrius thundered in unison. The General, horrified, snatched him back by the collar.

Caelyn let himself be dragged, but kept speaking, more urgently now. "Your skin, the unbroken, virgin snow of the Freljordian wintertide — it would only be tainted by my touching you."

"You're damned right," Jarvan III muttered under his breath. He shook his head and flicked his gaze to Demetrius', who was holding Caelyn by the shoulders. "I trust you'll keep your boy General Falin under control?"

_My boy general? Don't you mean my werefox pyromancer? _Demetrius bit back inappropriate laughter. "Yes, sir."

"Truly?" Caelyn laughed, his strange canines flashing, his eyes gleaming a dull red like dried blood. The king's noble jaw cinched. Veins stood out at his temples. "You'll be counting on my mercy, as you always have. He couldn't contain me if he —"

In his panic, Demetrius grabbed him by the neck much more roughly than he intended. Caelyn was immediately silent, at parade rest.

Demetrius swallowed hard. "You do not speak on my behalf."

"Aye, sir." Caelyn looked down and away. His pupils dilated, his face expressionless. "My sincerest apologies."

The Demacian guards exchanged glances. The king's frown was much more impressive than Demetrius' earlier attempts — he'd had more practice frowning, as Demetrius was a friendly man.

_From mass murderer to boy in moments. _Demetrius hesitated in the stillness, then cupped Caelyn's chin. The boy broke into violent purrs without changing facial expression. He sounded like a little washing machine.

Demetrius snatched his hand away, and the sound stopped. He put his hand back and heard the rumbling start back up again. The boy still hadn't blinked.

He glanced up to make sure he wasn't in some surrealist comedic reinterpretation of the opera _Demetrius & Caelyn. _But no. The sweelt larrimore and willow trees of Falin Manor swayed in the breeze, and the mockingbirds still sang cheerily to one another. The Demacians were staring at both of them, the king with something like royal pity, the guards with unease.

But the look on Saint Garrett's young face was approaching awe. _He tamed him. Like a lion or cobra. Demetrius is absolutely amazing — even if he is a completely evil individual with no scruples or morals. Damned Noxians._ His cheeks flushed again. _Though I suppose I can almost understand why Caelyn — no. Never mind. _

Demetrius sighed wearily. _Well. I've certainly done it now. _

Between being around Demacians without killing them and his master's displeasure, Caelyn had shut down entirely. The General had no idea what to do next. He put his hand on Caelyn's chest again and was deeply frustrated when the soothing hum began once more.

The child Queen of Demacia laughed aloud, clapping her tiny hands together. Her smile dimpled her cheeks, and the stony mask on King Jarvan's face cracked slightly.

Demetrius thought, almost relieved, _See? I believe Jarvan understands quite well why we keep the Doves. _

Jarvan III shook his head and looked once more to Demetrius, squinting. His voice held the faintest tinge of fear. "Are you sure he can behave himself?"

"Yes, sir." He noticed Caelyn still looking at him with wide, scared eyes and ground his teeth together. _Fantastic. Utterly fantastic. Jericho Swain is going to love this._

Queen Belladonna piped up, her face shining with childish glee. "Your highness?"

"Yes?" Jarvan III shifted towards her, eyes still on Caelyn's face.

"Official request to have him ride with me on my horse." She gestured vaguely in Demetrius' direction, towards Caelyn. Her blue eyes sparkled. "I like him."

Jarvan could no longer disguise his displeasure. The girl obviously didn't know who the boy was.

"Difficult to deny them, isn't it?" Demetrius said cheerfully, seeking common ground. He flinched away from the sudden look of black hatred on King Jarvan's face, his regal mask of indifference slipping entirely. _What did I say? Oh, they should've sent Charles and Andrew. I'm hopeless at this._

Caelyn nudged him. "Permission to speak?"

_Godsdamnit, child. _"Yes."

Caelyn addressed the company as the carriage thankfully rolled into view. "My rightful place —"

"— Is burning in the darkest pits of hell," Demetrius heard one of the guards mutter, and wanted to deck him, truce or no.

" — Is by my master's side, but I hope I'll have the pleasure of your company later on, my queen."

"Not if I can help it," Saint Garrett said softly, without conviction. But Caelyn didn't hear him, as busy as he was looking up at Demetrius' face. And it was just as well. The handsome young boy and his little pony would've been torn to shreds and ashes, just like his predecessors.

They climbed into the carriage. Demetrius tried his frown again. It was better, but still almost as weak. Caelyn cringed away and whimpered softly. The General pulled him close and scratched under his chin. The purr — a defense mechanism shared by most of the Doves — vibrated both of their bodies.

"Godsdamned Demacian king can't talk at all," the General muttered, surprised by his own bitterness. "His Queen's fourteen if she's broken a day."

"Yer know that's h'daughter, right?" Maria, driving the carriage, looked back over her shoulder, one eye closed in a perpetual wink. "'m sure someone as smart as Noxus' prime tactician wou' know that." Her sly smile said that she knew otherwise.

Demetrius froze. "Daughter?"

"Sir, she's a placeholder for Luxanna Crownguard. When Luxanna marries Jarvan IV, he and Lux will ascend the throne, master." Caelyn leaned into him, eyes shining, eager to please. He was going to _sir _Demetrius to death before they were even halfway there. "The girl's a figurehead to please the masses, sir. Symbol of gentleness after the war."

"Daughter," Demetrius said flatly. He chuckled and felt tiny tears form in the corners of his eyes. "His daughter. But — she called her own father 'your highness'? What in hell?"

He'd conveniently forgotten that, in the twelve years he and Caelyn had spent together, Caelyn had called Demetrius by his first name maybe four, five times.

"Well, sir." Caelyn's eyelashes fluttered. "They _are_ Demacian."

The General heard Queen Belladonna's sweet voice drift back to him. "But daddy, I don't understand what's wrong. You kiss me all the time."

Demetrius buried his face in his white-gloved hands and groaned. After a moment, he felt a warm, thrumming boy hesitantly cuddle into his side.

_For Noxus. _

* * *

"You sent _who_ from our country?"

Darius flinched away from the naked horror in Jericho Swain's eyes. "Sir —"

Swain jabbed his cane in Darius' direction. "That's a public relations timebomb, Darius. Surely — surely you realize this. As much as you adore that stupid boy. I'm glad you've got your own to play daddy to now."

Darius flushed scarlet. _Still won't let that go, you cranky old bastard? _"I — Demetrius is current commander of Noxus, and —"

"_Really?" _Jericho's fists clenched. "Please tell me you aren't that stupid. Please?"

Darius blinked. The High Commander was often cranky, but usually not this badly. "The envoy's already underway. It's too late."

"My gods above." Jericho huffed. "Demetrius is awkward around his house servant, and she's been in the family for forty years. It'll be a wonder if Jarvan III gets here without watching him have a panic attack. And Caelyn Falin within two inches of the Demacian king. Ha!" He shook his head and laughed loudly, bitterly.

"But —"

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. What are they going to talk about over lunch? The time Caelyn turned Saint Leanbranch's intestines into reins for his own horse?"

Darius felt his irritation surge. "I think we've got bigger problems, sir." He gestured at the street ahead of them. His brother Draven was in the middle of a thick group of nubile young bikini-wearing Summoners from Ionia. They were all grinding against him slowly while Piltover dance music issued from a radio outside. He gave Darius a thumbs-up. Darius shook his head.

There was an active water gun war going on as well — one of the girls hit Swain with a spray and promptly ran away from his unwavering glare.

Darius opened the door to the Supports' Quarters and waved Swain inside. The cool breeze and damp air inside was refreshing. They were insulated from the hot noisy world outside. "I have an idea about the source."

"Oh, who could it be? Your wildly unstable, sexually confused empathic son? What a surprise." Swain snorted.

Darius fought the urge to throttle him. "And most likely Ezreal."

"Why Ezreal? His Willow-Dove?"

Darius ignored him, instead nodding in Soraka and Karma's direction. They nodded back, then whirled to stare at him. Soraka covered her mouth with her hand.

"There was a lot of talk in Piltover psycho-techmaturgy about how the pair of them amplify one another's powers through their link. Their mental problems, too."

"Fantastic." Swain rolled his eyes and almost ran into Ryland and Sona, who were coming out of her room. The Empath's raven hair was mussed, as was Sona's. They had a post-sex glow that Darius was familiar with.

Ryland took one look at his dad and began edging away. "G - good evening."

"It's noon," Swain said, frowning at Sona's globular breasts. She covered them up with a grimace.

"Ryland. Come here." Darius held his hand out to him.

He shook his head rapidly. "I've got — um — healer things to do. You know. Prayer. Cleansing."

Darius' eyes narrowed. "It's not going to —"

"See you." Ryland darted away.

"It's not going to work! It doesn't work on Noxians!" Darius called after him, then turned to Swain with a sigh. The old man was still staring at Sona's breasts, hypnotized. Sona's frown was the least impressive one Darius had ever seen. "Sir."

"Just a moment, Darius. I believe I'm discovering the secrets to the universe."

"Oh, for fuck's — come on." He grabbed Swain's sleeve and dragged him towards the other Supports. Then he saw Kat slink in with Lux in tow. A flash of intuition struck him and he changed direction. He left Swain to stare at Karma's tits.

"Less impressive in size," the High Commander muttered, tapping his cane contemplatively against the ground. "But the color — very unique."

"Uhhhhhh." Karma blushed. Soraka shook her head, weary. "T - Thank you?"

Darius grabbed Kat by the shoulders and pulled her into the nearest empty meditation chamber. She looked him up and down, then licked her lips. "Hey there."

"No. Kat. What did you do to my son?"

"How do you k — I mean, uh. Shit. I'm out of practice for interrogation." Kat coughed. "So, um. How was your day?"

"I got bitched at for sending Demetrius and Caelyn as Noxus' emissaries."

"You sent _who_?" Her eyes widened. She flushed from her jaw down to the V of her black shirt. There were still traces of glittering sweat on her breasts.

Darius waved his hand. "Not right now, Kat."

"That's so fucking _stupid _—"

"Kat!" he roared, eyes blazing. She cringed away. "What did you do to Ryland?"

She hesitated. "You're gonna be mad. Like really, really mad."

"I'm already mad. And the rest of the Institute is fucking itself. So tell me."

She smiled nervously. "You know that thing? Where you mess with someone's subconscious to get better control over them?"

"Oh my gods." Darius buried his face in his hands. "That thing you're only supposed to do to children?" He saw Lux walk by, carrying three dresses. She shot them a dirty look. There was a faint stain of come lingering on her cheek.

"Uh-huh. Well, you know." Kat examined her fingernails. "Ryland's got a lot of problems. With his subconscious."

"No shit." Darius rubbed his temples.

"So I thought, you know, sex therapy — I just wanted to help."

_No, you just wanted him to fuck you on command. _"Kat —"

"And, well — his mind's pretty fucked up. Like the structure of it. I mean I still love him but damn, there's some weird shit in there. Like, fucked up." She paused. "And you know me."

"You wanted to help?"

"Yep." She wet her lips. "So I tried to snap his connection to that abusive blonde prick. It's annoying to know they're talking, like, all the time. Plus did you see Ezreal's bruises? What the fu —"

Darius' body went numb. "Say the first part again."

She took a deep breath. "I tried to break his link with Ezreal."

"You —"

"Uh-huh." Her smile widened sarcastically. "Really smart of me, huh?"

"That's — that's legitimately horrifying."

Kat coughed into her hand. "_cough_ Caelyn _cough_"

"Godsdamnit." He slammed her against the wall and kissed her. Her eyes widened, then closed in pleasure. Darius' tongue was warm against hers. He was taller than her, too, overwhelming with his broad muscles against her sweet curves.

She wished she would've messed with Ryland's mind a little more. Maybe turned everyone into complete freaks.

He pulled away. His eyes searched her face. "So how do we fix it?"

"It has to grow back, and the calmer the two of them are, the faster." She kissed him, slid her mouth along his jawbone, down his neck. She nipped him. He pulled her hair, still frowning. "There's nothing we can do."

"You know I'm angry, right?"

She grinned. "I know." Her lips parted as his rough fingers traveled up her thigh.

He bit her earlobe and glowered at her, face as menacing as a thunderhead. "Really angry."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." She tried to kiss him, but he whirled her around and bent her over, grabbing for her ass. She braced herself against the wall, delighted. He yanked her jeans to her knees so abruptly that she almost fell over.

Then the tip of his cock was questing along the inside of her slit, through her panties. He grabbed her elbows so hard it hurt and pulled her to him. Her butt rested against her thighs.

"Say you're sorry."

"That's my line." Kat puffed a strand of red hair out of her face, then cried out when Darius squeezed her joints harder. Only the thinnest filament of silk separated his thick, hot dick from the inside of her.

"Say it."

She moaned instead. Darius' fingers slipped beneath the strap of her grey silk thong and pulled it down too, exposing her nether regions to the cool air. Her legs were immediately stippled by goosebumps. She moaned again, more quietly, as Darius' callused fingertip grazed the tip of her clit. She was already sore from the constant arousal.

But it melded into a sweet, tingly pain as she grew warmer and wetter. Her inner lips squeezed around his finger as it slipped inside her.

She scowled. "You gonna fuck me or what?"

"Apologize."

"Holy shit. I'm sor —" The end of it was lost in a muffled scream. He clapped his hand over her mouth and shoved his dick inside her. Her legs parted wider — she almost lost her balance. Her ass was slapping against his legs in moments. Her mouth hung open, eyes half-closed.

He shifted and spread her thighs apart even more. He pulled all the way out, then rubbed the tip of his cock against her warm pink crevice, smearing the wetness around. He jammed himself in deeper and rode her, groping for her breasts when she began to fall forward.

It was brutal and quick. He left her shivering and was gone before she could say another word.

_And they say I'm the stupid one, _Darius thought as he strode away, and sighed heavily. _Godsdamnit Kat. _

* * *

"Ez." Ryland fled to Ezreal's room and shut the door behind him, heart pounding.

Ezreal looked up sleepily. He'd been trying to read _Piltover Tech Monthly _— one of the writers was discussing what exactly lie at the heart of Pulsefire's powers. But he felt sluggish. Weariness dragged at his muscles, made his forehead ache. "Yeah?"

"Sona just fucked me, and — are you feeling alright?" His best friend Ezreal was always the top priority in Ryland's life.

The Healer didn't know why, which was just as well.

He frowned and crossed to the Explorer, sex already forgotten, then peeled the collar of Ez's blue shirt down. Ezreal leaned against Ryland's hand with a sigh. It felt good against his feverish face.

"Good gods." Ryland ruffled Ez's hair, feeling pangs of nervousness in his lower stomach. "What happened to you last night? I — I know that's not from me." _At least I hope it's not from me, _Ryland thought, remembering the blood trickling down Aven's neck with a shiver.

A huge, purplish-red star-shaped bruise stretched from Ez's collarbone to the edge of his nipple.

Ezreal licked his lips and mumbled something.

"What?"

"Caelyn and Cressida."

"Cressida? The Noxian vampire?"

Ezreal rested his cheek on Ryland's chest. The Healer was Noxian, but his touch was still soothing. "Mhm. Strawberries on her bra. Amazing."

"The bite's probably venomous," Ryland said, feeling distant. "Do you — you know where the Supports' Bathing Pools are, right?"

"Mhm. I should go there, right?" He moved to gather towels and his neon-blue swim trunks. But Ryland was faster — Ezreal felt like he was moving in slow motion.

"I'd go with you, but — well." Ryland looked down. "I don't want to —"

"You don't wanna fuck," Ez murmured, almost dozing off. He saw Cressida beckoning, this time without the weird guy beside her. Ezreal smiled. Ryland hurriedly took him by the shoulders and dragged him towards the baths, then pushed him inside. He went to hide beneath his covers and pray that Kat didn't find him.

The pool was pretty, to say the least. It was a large room with ivory arched, vaulted ceilings. Fever-bright stained glass of the seasons surrounded Ez on all sides, with apple orchards, snowy mountains, and spring forests spilling forth from the windows.

The pool floors were tiled mosaics of aqua and gold, forming a glistening wheel pattern. And if you squinted beneath the light blue, sweetly-scented ripples, you could see an intricate sparrow, a hawk, a wolf, two tigers, a dove, a fox — but enough of that.

Ezreal changed clothes and felt the humid air encase his lean, bare chest. He noticed with displeasure that his hipbones were jutting out. He traced the bruises, then the bite mark, and sighed. Lux was going to be _pissed_. The vampire had left what amounted to an interstellar hickey.

_ Actually have to get in the water for the healing to work. _He stepped in, climbed to the lowest slippery stair, and sat down. The water was the temperature of his body — he almost couldn't feel it. It came to the base of his collarbone, warm against the aching bite. He closed his eyes and let the white sunlight slanting in drift across his face, listening to the waves lap against the sides of the pool.

His mind was slowly clearing as the venom was leeched away by the herbs and spells laid on the baths. He didn't hear Nami swishing her way towards him.

The Tidecaller had linked up with Soraka and Sona to experience Sona's memories of sex with Ryland. When she'd seen Ryland — sweet healer Ryland — bite deeply into Sona's white flesh, she began to shake her head. "I can't."

"It's still Ryland," Soraka said, but she sounded pensive. "Nami, we still need —"

It was then Ezreal dreamily drifted by, headed towards the baths. Nami followed him without a second thought. She was naturally curious. As she trailed him, watched his smooth gait, she felt her inquisitiveness overcoming her fear.

Ezreal opened his eyes and thought he was seeing a stained-glass window come to life. The sunlight shone off Nami's slick, close-set scales, painting them a thousand shimmering hues of azure, blue-green and indigo. The delicate fins on her head, thin and white as paper cranes, quivered slightly. He watched the fringes around her breasts flush a faint purple-red, a spring sunset atop an already glorious palette of color.

"Holy hell. You're beautiful." Ezreal reached towards her. He expected her image to ripple apart, like a kaleidoscope.

But she was real. Her glossy scales were smooth beneath his fingers. Her deep, dark amber eyes widened in surprise as she fought the half-hearted urge to slip away.

Most of her was hypnotized by the mysterious blue of Ezreal's eyes. They were light, like the cresting waves pounding against the shores of Ionia. Yet there was a deeper, darker blue to them, as infinite and fathomless as the abyss. It drew her nearer — nose to nose with him.

She saw him blush and heard him mutter "Godsdamnit." She glanced down. He was hard. "I'm sorry. You're — very pretty."

"No, no. It's actually a good thing." She felt her own body responding. It moved with the rhythm of the water, and at the moment, the tides were pulsing with summery desire.

She hesitated, then leaned on his knees. He was handsome, according to the humans. She could see it. He — reminded her of the ocean. Of the sun and water.

She kissed him suddenly and pulled him forward into the deep water with her. He treaded water, too dazed to protest. Her lips were surprisingly soft. She worked his mouth from bottom to top, suckling his lower lip, then the tip of his tongue, then his top lip. She tasted of sweetness and salt.

His bare chest slid against the snowy space where her fins opened. The white flesh there was supple, denser. He could feel her heart — hearts? — beating. And his started to echo their lilting rhythm.

_Th - thud, th - thud, th - thud. _

_This again? _He thought distantly as Nami's delicate fingers groped for his cock. He didn't know if he meant the sex or the arrhythmia.

Her touch was lighter than a breeze. Combined with the deep warmth of the water, it felt like his dick was being squeezed and pressed by the waves themselves, milked by the violet-smelling water and sunlight.

The pressure mounted as Nami's hand explored him, sliding past his shaft to flick lightly at the flesh below. Her other hand cupped the back of his thigh and kneaded it. The shining constellations on the floor of the bath trembled harder as her rhythm created little ripples. He moaned helplessly and looked at her, almost panting. "Please don't bite me."

Her charming laugh, trilling and bell-like, filled the soaring atrium. _This is actually fun, _she thought, and towed him back towards the stairs by his dick. He let himself drift limply, cracking one eye open to watch her. Her face was delicate. Her lips were curved in a smile. Once seated, he tilted his head back and let Nami and the water engulf him.

She was teasing him now. The lust was infectious — the devilish grin on her face only made him harder.

_Lux is gonna be sooooo mad. So very mad. _Ezreal felt his care ebbing away as his shaft slid, wedged tightly between Nami's glossy breasts. He gasped. He didn't think it was possible, but he grew hotter and harder.

Her body was so slippery he almost couldn't stand it. Between the warmth, her bewitching smile, and the friction of his swim trunks, he expected come to spurt out of him at any moment. He was still expecting it to when she pulled his trunks off and threw them out of the water with a wet _thump. _

Then it was his bare skin against hers. Her breasts formed a tight canal that he slid in between, his aching cock surrounded on all sides by warm, white silky flesh. His hands found her shoulders and pressed against them. The scales glimmered beneath his fingers.

She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and curious. He wanted to speak but couldn't. Not as she pressed her breasts even tighter together with her hands, squeezing him. He felt himself swell, lengthen. _How? How am I so hard? _

"The Tides," she whispered. _Of magic, spring and desire. _

His length jutted past the tops of her breast. A fringe of fin brushed the burning head of his dick. It should've turned him off, but it was too satin-like to unnerve him. It felt like expensive lingerie.

She bent her neck over and took the tip of him into her mouth, though he was still fully submerged. Now the swirling of her tongue was added to the pressure of her lips, her skin, the waves. He struggled to push deeper. She let him — her throat was open and willing. Water twinkled off the surface of the fins breaking the water. All was silent save the sound water lapping the pool's edges and Ezreal's quiet moans.

It was the vibration that got to her. After all, sound was limited in the depths — her people could speak and sing, but mostly communicated via sensation. Pressed as she was between his thighs, she could feel all of him — the rhythm of his muscle contractions, their synchronous heartbeats, the moans that shivered his throat and chest.

And he was beautiful, and in more than just a human way. There was power in him, like in the silvery moonstone her people still searched for. Power like the dark, warm tides that swirled in via the south at summertide.

Her people mated infrequently, but when they did, it was remarkably similar to the way humans did. The mammalian part of their reproductive genetics had won over the impersonal fertilization common to ichthyoids — they were people with fish tails, not fish with people bodies.

Not that that mattered in the slightest to anyone but zoologists.

Nami tugged on Ezreal's hair until he was lying on his back on the stairs, face only barely out of the water. He had a fantastic view of a blue-purple circular celestial window, stars and moons and suns.

She climbed atop him. Crystalline beads of water dripped and caught the sun, fell twinkling from her tail onto Ezreal's warm body. His golden hair was damp now. There were tiny, glittery flecks of gold suspended in the dark blue of his irises — he was Overflowing slightly.

He felt her guide his cock inside of the minute, pulsing slit that only opened when she was deeply aroused. He blushed. "Are you sure —"

"Shhh." She cupped his cheek and traced his face's bones with cooling fingertips. Her eyes fluttered closed in pleasure. He was larger by far than any of the mates she'd had. Thicker.

_I'm pretty sure this is bestiality_ Ezreal thought. Then thought fled him as he slipped deeper with a shuddering breath. She was tight. Tighter even than Lux had been the first time they fucked. _What comes after this? _He wondered when he gasped. _Werewolf? _

It didn't matter at the moment. Nami's breasts were pressed against his lips. They had the same tropical, summer sweetness that the rest of her did. Her internal muscles were cloaked in pulsating silk, and were strong and sinuous. They moved along his cock from top to bottom, seemed to pause at different points on his shaft and squeeze.

Then they rippled around the head of it, fluttered faster and faster. He heard her sigh with pleasure. Her tail coiled around his feet and brought his thighs together. He groaned into her neck and felt her squeeze his wrists.

She brought her body all the way down to the base of his cock, forcing every inch of his swollen girth inside of her deep, velvety, quivering body. The world was a blur of heavenly blues, purples and golds.

Ezreal closed his eyes and felt himself release. His entire body clenched. He moaned and panted against her, shuddering when her body squeezed the last drop of come from his tip.

Then she smiled broadly and kissed his forehead. He swallowed hard and watched the constellations of the window above him begin to reel. The colors of the windows around him were changing places, rippling, wavering.

"It's not so scary at all." She got off of him and nuzzled his hair.

Ezreal couldn't speak.

"Ezreal? Are you alright?"

He was no longer conscious. Soraka, who had been watching their joyous union (for safety's sake, of course), bolted in, her white skirt tied to her right side. She knelt beside him and felt for a pulse, ignoring Nami's deep scarlet flush of embarrassment.

"Arrhythmia." Soraka looked to Nami. "I — I think you've been successful, but I do wonder —"

_We need to render Ryland unconscious next. _Sona drifted in, too tired to walk. The tips of her toes grazed the water-spotted floor. _If we can get them both asleep at the same time — _

"What do you mean?" Nami felt her slit close back up and wanted to sigh. She knew humans mated far more frequently than what she was used to. Now she understood why.

_While I slept with Ryland, I noticed some internal psychological damage relating to him being Noxian. _Sona knelt over Ezreal and placed a healing palm over the vampire bite. He looked so innocent, so childish in the brilliant light. It frustrated Ez to no end, knowing that people didn't think he was manly. But with those entrancing blue eyes, angelic blonde hair — he looked less like a man and more like a spirit. She traced the curve of his lips, noticed Soraka and Nami staring at her, and snatched her hand away. _I believe having the two commune with one another on a subconscious level — without having Kat interfere —_

"Ah," Soraka said softly. A thought struck her. "What do we tell Luxanna?"

The three Supports shared a guilty look.

_ We'll figure that out later. _Sona sighed and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. The distant sounds of people fucking wafted on the air. _For now, we've got to help them. Before it's too late. _


	8. On the Prowl

N.B. Greetings, friends.

Per usual, **skip **the content between **pagebreaks 3-4. **Unless you need a break between lemons.

I'm planning to wrap this thing up in a couple chapters. _If you've got any other requests, now would be the time to let me know._

Also, I'd appreciate if you let me know your thoughts on the gangbang hinted at at the end of the chapter. You want me to write it? Yes? No?

**(SPOILERS. I GUESS).** Coming (heh) up next chapter: Cressida x Ryland, Vayne x Yasuo.

* * *

Ryland, shivering, burrowed deeper under the covers when he heard the door open. "Just lay him down," he heard Soraka murmur. A warm weight settled next to him, and the door quietly closed.

Ryland emerged from his hiding place to find Ezreal, still in neon-blue swim trunks, half-asleep. He paused. _If I end up being turned on by him, I'll leave the Institute. No. Runeterra. _

He bit his lip and reached for Ezreal's chest and was relieved by the lack of sexual tension. Ezreal looked up at him and yawned.

"You know what I want to fuck?"

"What?" _Wait — 'what' he wants to fuck? Not who? _Ryland blinked. _What? _

"A human." His eyes fluttered closed. Ryland leaned nearer and sniffed him, then withdrew swiftly. The scent of tropical orange blossoms and sea salt lingered on Ezreal's skin.

"Ezreal." He sounded disappointed.

"Yeah, it was Nami. Damn, Ryland." He smiled wearily. "I thought you were keeping your bitches better satisfied."

Ryland gaped at him. "Wh — no. Absolutely not."

"Yeah, I noticed." He stretched.

"No! I don't fuck them!" Ryland shuddered. "I — that's the opposite of what we do. I would never hurt them like that."

Ezreal frowned. "It was a joke. Besides, Sona —"

"It wasn't me." He couldn't breathe. Ezreal's eyes widened — his friend was having a panic attack. Ryland's shivering wracked his entire bony body. "I d - didn't want to. I didn't!"

"Hey. It's alright." He hugged him. Ryland's sudden tears dripped onto his collarbone. "We're going to be fine."

Ryland's throat tightened. "Dad's after me — everyone is — his neck and — I'm ruining the Institute."

_Whose neck? _Ezreal shook his head and began to rub his shoulders. "Ruining? I don't think so."

"I've broken the peace with corruption."

"_Ryland._" Ezreal ruffled his hair. "Sex is an okay thing for most people. Even if I wasn't totally expecting Nami — because she's a mermaid — it ended up alright. You're not really hurting anyone."

"I hurt Sona." Ryland swallowed hard.

"How?"

"I bit her."

"That's normal. Totally normal."

"But —" His face hovered an inch before Ezreal's. Their silver-green color was vibrant and bright with terror. His chest was pressed to Ezreal's bare one.

And, of course, that's when Lux walked in. The green, purple and yellow gowns she was holding fell whispering to the floor. "What the _fuck_?"

Ezreal's heart sank. "It's not what it —"

"I don't care!" She snapped. Her blazing blue eyes turned to Ryland, who shook harder. Ezreal thought he heard him whimper. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"We're talking." Ezreal sighed. "Just talking."

"I want him to answer." She pointed at Ryland, who flinched away. Ezreal recognized the dark look in the Healer's eyes. He was already distressed. There was no way he'd be able to answer. "Well? What's wrong? Too stupid? Don't like talking to girls?"

"Lux. Holy shit." Ezreal sat up. "What —"

"Get out!" She snarled. Ezreal thought she may have been shouting at himself, but she was glaring directly at Ryland.

"Lux, he's —"

Ryland vanished into the shadows. Ezreal stared at the space he'd occupied moments ago. He was used to Arcane Shifting, but — _I at least leave sparks when I leave. He just left nothing. _He sighed again and turned his attention to Lux. "You know. The Supports put me in here. Not Ryland."

"Yeah. Surprise. I didn't realize the Institute had a dating advisory department, too." She shook her head and huffed. "Do you know how — how frustrating it is to come home to you two on top of each other? It's every single time."

"He's not stable."

Lux laughed. "That makes me feel a lot better about you two. Thanks."

"I mean — I'm pretty sure you fuck Katarina constantly, but —" _That was definitely not what I meant to say, _Ezreal realized.

Lux's fists clenched. "Maybe if you weren't on top of her _boyfriend_ —"

"Maybe if you'd give him a chance — no, never mind. I'd rather look at your dresses than argue." He paused. "So you do fuck Katarina?"

She eyed him and didn't answer. "Actually, I don't want to know who's on top between you and Ryland."

"If it were a thing, it'd definitely be me." Ezreal sighed, then remembered he'd slept with Nami in real life and almost panicked. Never mind Cressida. _Oh shit. Lux is Demacian. The whole monogamy thing — do I tell her? _He decided against it for the moment.

She made a sound of disgust. "So you've thought about it."

"What? You asked. I didn't want you to get mad at me for not answering, too."

"No. You know what? You don't get to see." She gathered her dresses into her arms and sniffed.

"Wait, really?" Ezreal frowned. He was actually looking forward to watching her try them on — he loved it when she dressed up.

"Nope. You won't know until the night of the banquet. If you even care." She stormed out and slammed the door before he could answer.

_Oh man. _He leaned back onto Ryland's fluffy pillows and realized Lux had run the Healer out of his own room. _Poor Ryland. _Ezreal knew his relationship with Katarina was fraught with tension and sadomasochism.

_Of course he wouldn't want to think of the Supports sexually. Guess that doesn't stop them from thinking of him like that, though. Thinking of us. _

Ezreal closed his weary eyes and groaned.

* * *

"Comfy?"

A smile curved Nidalee's lips. They were in her room in the Ivory Quarters, a darkly elegant space that was both civilized and feral. Rough jade figurines and bamboo plants nestled in between fine, long-necked Ionian vases. Leafy tendrils dangled from the ceiling. Lush white Charima blossoms bloomed in the corners, and the aroma of incense hang in the air.

The lights were off. Everything was black save for what the blazing fire illuminated. It was hot, and though Akali was in a purple bikini from the water fight earlier, she was beginning to sweat.

She leaned back into the black leather loveseat and steepled her fingers on top of her breasts. Shyvana, in a yellow swimsuit, was asleep on the chair beside her.

"Mhm. I'm ready."

Nidalee's throaty laugh made her shiver a little. The half-cougar lifted a spear from the fireplace beside her. As Akali watched, she began to sway to a slow rhythm that mimicked the steady crackling of the flames.

The tribal waltz was smooth, flowing from one stance to the next. The muscles beneath Nidalee's sable skin were firm, her thighs thick and strong. The firelight whispered across her sensuous, exotic body, briefly catching the green-yellow of her eyes. They twinkled like ancient emeralds.

White paint swirled up her legs in a mystical pattern, trailing into her lower lips. The short, dark green bikini revealed much more than it concealed.

She bent over. Her taut ass was near enough for Akali to grab — it took all of her restraint not to. The light danced along Nidalee's full curves.

She tossed her long dark hair proudly and glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes glittered playfully. "Like what you see?"

Akali had to clear her throat. "Yes."

"Good." She replaced the spear and began a series of meditative stretches, arching and twisting into contorted positions. The shifting light made her look like a spirit.

But Akali knew better. She could see the drops of sweat begin to glisten along that smooth back, the way her body tightened in anticipation.

Then she stood before Akali, half-smiling, and slowly removed her bra, uncovering the rich, luxurious brown globes of her breasts. Akali felt her own thighs tighten as the emerald cloth inched downwards, then felt the tight space in her lower belly begin to throb. Arousal as spicy and alluring as the burning incense overtook her. Her fingertips and toes began to tingle, her heartbeats seeming to thicken and slow.

When the cloth finally slipped past Nidalee's dusky nipples, her own nipples tightened. The dark aureoles were inviting. They looked like they would taste sweet.

The Huntress smirked and tossed her top onto Shyvana, who was still too exhausted to participate. She did have one eye open, however, and was watching them intently. Akali saw the half-dragon's fingers begin to move towards her lower half.

Nidalee finally let her hair down. It was a silky, plush curtain the color of a tropical sunset — with faint hints of ruby buried deep within the dark, and fire flickering across it. It trailed far below her breasts.

She bent over again. The scent of her arousal joined the mélange of exotic odors.

Akali couldn't wait anymore. Her fingers tugged at the green. Touching Nidalee's satin skin made her shiver again. She pulled the swimsuit down.

Nid was hot for her, already burning. The lower lips before Akali's face were glistening, her inner slit a sweet pink counterpoint to the rest of her dark, dark body.

Akali grabbed her thick ass with both hands, squeezed it, and lapped at the damp crevice. Nid gasped with pleasure, hands on her knees. She almost lost her balance as Akali suckled on her. Her tongue traced Nid's opening lightly.

"No teasing." Nidalee reached back and pushed Akali deeper into her. Her low moans competed with the sound of the fire. Akali's tongue darted in and out of her vagina. She sucked at her clit and felt Nidalee's back arch.

Akali pulled Nidalee on top of her. She squirmed as Nidalee tore at Akali's own swimsuit with eager fingers. Their bodies, lubed by sweat and fluid, slid against one another. Their long, dark hair caught and dampened between them, wet strands clinging to their breasts.

Akali's world was pleasure. It was fire, flashing green eyes, and smooth, silky, taut flesh slipping over hers. Nid's nipples pressed to her lips and she nibbled on them. The Huntress laughed and plunged her weighty breasts further into Akali's face.

Then they began to rock back and forth as Akali's hand found Nidalee's sweet spot, oblivious to the creaking of the black couch. The Huntress was totally lost in the dark, wild rhythm, sort of like drumbeats. The wilderness had no inhibitions.

But Nidalee pulled back and gazed at the young woman pinned beneath her. Akali's body was lean but supple, and her soft breasts were capped by the lightest-pink nipples Nid had ever seen. She took one between her fingers and tugged it until Akali writhed beneath her.

Nid grinned. "My turn."

"That's not ne —"

"My turn," Nidalee growled. Akali became very still.

She watched the ebony fingers trail down her shivery stomach, to the top of her bottom half, and pause there, waiting. The Huntress' short fingernails were painted palm-leaf green. She was grinning at Akali, her high cheekbones accented by the white stripes slanting across them.

Then Akali squealed when the fingers dove inside of her, working past her tightness to her pulsing, hot center. She felt her inner walls cinching around them, squeezing tight. The shock reverberated through her legs — her knees bent and her damp thighs slammed together. She rode them breathlessly.

She moaned louder and louder until Nid brought her to a wet climax.

Watching them, Shyvana's eyes widened and darkened. Maybe Nidalee would still have energy after this one.

Or maybe not. Akali reached for Nidalee and flicked at her. Her body quaked with an orgasm. She tilted her head back, black hair streaming down her strong back, lips parted, and moaned. The sound was low and primal. It vibrated both her and Akali's bodies.

The two of them collapsed against one another. Their skin was slick against the leather couch.

Nidalee was the first to recover. She sat up and grinned through her dark hair. "Do you fear the wild?"

"No," Akali said softly. She brushed her damp hair out of her face. Her vagina and clit were still quivering and sensitive to the hot air. "I think I like it."

* * *

King Jarvan III's frustration was already running high. Though his chiseled face was outwardly calm, his knuckles were white around the reins of his snowy stallion. _The impertinence of that boy — Noxians just don't give a damn about social customs, do they? _

When fifteen Noxian Generals trotted up beside them and inserted themselves wordlessly into the royal guard, it took all of Jarvan III's iron-forged willpower to nod politely. His heart seized as a pair of the vast, shadowy men fell into step beside his daughter and Saint Garrett.

It didn't help that Queen Belladonna's gray-blue eyes — 'heaven's own blue,' they called them — were sparkling.

For the Noxian Generals were nothing if not handsome. Their coal-black stallions were twice as large as Saint Garrett's pony. The men themselves were in black-dress down armor, unhelmeted to display their neatly-combed raven hair, and their boots were polished to a high gloss.

They passed through the wrought-iron gates into the darkness-dappled city streets themselves. King Jarvan noted that the thick spikes were topped with sculptures of snarling wolves and broad-winged hawks. The Generals, like the buildings of Noxus, were tall and dark. The opposite of Demacia — where the avenues were wide and sunlit, the men golden-haired.

_Fah, _King Jarvan thought with tired bitterness. _Call us racist, but every one of Noxus' top Generals looks precisely the same. _

_ Except one. _

The king glanced over his shoulder and felt his stomach curdle in disgust. Caelyn was leaning even nearer to Demetrius than he had been earlier, if that were possible, gazing up at him. Unblinking, enraptured. The General was slowly stroking his neck, eyes closed.

The Noxians were intelligent enough to remove Demetrius from the battlefield after he and Caelyn's first fight together. They knew that if Demetrius died everyone, regardless of armor color, was going up in flame.

If anyone doubted the fresh lieutenant — the wild-eyed Willow-Dove in gray armor two sizes too large — their doubts were burned away within hours. Any lingering ones vanished like smoke when he was promoted to General immediately following the fight.

_That damned speech. Four years ago, now. _Saint Garamond staring Caelyn down, the former unable to believe that a Demacian would fight against his own country, the latter burning with pride, manic nationalism, and soon, literal fire.

The Noxians were unseen, hidden behind the abandoned cathedral on the sweeping plains. So it appeared that Caelyn was alone — a single child on an old black mare — against ranks and ranks of angelic white. The sun was dying. It winked off the cathedral's peaks, onto the men below, a fiery orange red.

"You renounce your ties to your heritage? To your true family?_" _Garamond's deep voice rang with disbelief over the statue-silent men behind him.

Caelyn smirked. "I do more than renounce them. I despise them."

_ "_This is your final chance!"Saint Garamond shouted. His blue eyes glittered with desperation. The child had to be out of his mind. "The Generals have turned you from the right path. Blinded you with evil. You think this — this monstrosity is your home. That Noxus —this misery —"

_ "_Better five-hundred-thousand years dead in Noxus than a day alive in Demacia!" Caelyn roared, snarling. His voice was much larger than it should've been for his slender frame.

The Noxian army all hurriedly looked at one another, then at Demetrius. The General's ears turned pink.

"Oh. Shit,"Katarina said softly. Darius nodded slightly, then cocked his head to listen.

"Better a coffin in Noxian earth than a seat at the peak of your palace. Your pretty walls contain naught but emptiness._" _He took a shuddering breath. "The dear angels you pray to don't stand a chance before my blade!"

"Godsdamnit_,_" Demetrius muttered. He felt numb. He hated — no, utterly loathed and despised — the look of satisfaction on Jericho Swain's face. Swain wanted Caelyn dead.

The boy squared his shoulders. "I fully renounce my ties to your gods-accursed land."

"Truly?" Garamond murmured. He fought down tears of pity, for he was the Saint of Children as well. He didn't know he'd be dead in less than fifteen minutes.

"Aye, truly."Caelyn bared his teeth. "With a glad and joyous heart."

The Demacians charged, and the Noxians surged from the shadows with a roar twice as loud, shaking the empty fields and crumbling stones. Then all was fear, blood and confusion. The king looked up from his fierce fight with General Charles White (_who now rode beside him, black horse's hooves clicking mildly along the cobblestone) _to see that all action had ceased. Every person — the wrinkles on their faces, the beads of sweat near their lips — stood out in brilliant, storm-lit relief.

"_For Noxus!"_

To this day, no one knew where he'd come from. They all watched as Caelyn dove from the wild auburn sky, dropping like a meteor, sword pointed downward, one foot on the hilt in an attack Jarvan had never seen before and never wanted to.

He rammed Saint Garamond through the heart. The last King Jarvan III saw of his oldest and most beloved Saint was a look of helpless confusion and betrayal.

Caelyn's eyes flashed. He jerked the blade back out and held it towards the setting sun like an offering, watching the blood roll down it in black-crimson rivulets. He was grinning. Oblivious, as he always was, to the thousands of people around him. Watching him, as they always were.

"Suppose you can't replace me now, master, can you?"

_ "_No,"Demetrius said into the silence, voice high and strangled. He had gone entirely pale. He was a ghost in black armor. His green eyes were wide with horror. No one had killed a Battle Saint in at least two-hundred years. "No, I suppose I can't."

Caelyn and Demetrius were enveloped in a churning sea of white and silver in moments, a frothing cloud of angry bewildered blue eyes and flashing swords.

"Give me your sword, sir."

"What?"

"Just trust me,"Caelyn murmured. His face was perfectly blank, save for the darkness in his clear eyes. Demetrius hesitated, then shoved it to him.

The king watched and knew then, in the right chamber of his heart where kings knew these sorts of things, that the war was already over, though the slaughter had only begun.

Caelyn was Noxus' secret weapon, forged with Demacian blood and proofed by the dark. The Dove was moving too fast to see — blood was gushing, spurting from torn throats and turning black and cold on the ground. Caelyn's sword slashed like summer lightning.

But it was more than impressive sword-work. The boy was moving, flowing with Demetrius' terrified dodges, adjusting his two-bladed strikes to accommodate the General's seemingly unpredictable movements.

The way Caelyn moved wasn't human. His impertinent smile grew with every downed man.

When the first five trembling Battle Saints held the points of their swords to his and Demetrius' throats and glanced back at Jarvan III for further instructions, Caelyn laughed. The laughter soared above, to the very dragon-tipped top of the old cathedral, above Swain and King Jarvan's almost identically awed faces. Demetrius' chest heaved.

Caelyn's eyes flashed red. His smile — there were simply too many teeth.

Then the fire.

It burst from beneath his feet. It erupted in a searing, white-hot swell — an unholy geyser with he and Demetrius in the center. Both sides began to retreat. The screams began as the flames swept out of control, rising in tandem with the fire's roar. The red-yellow fringes brushed the soldiers' boots, lovingly at first, then more insistently as they began to cook their flesh.

The Battle Saints were ashes. Their blood was boiled away. The battlefield was covered with billowing, shimmering curtains of flame.

And — the king squinted, too tired to feel anything but cold sadness. The Noxians could move through it. It wasn't burning them. His eyes were drawn to Caelyn unwillingly.

Caelyn's smile had returned to its sweet Willow-Dove state. Serenity. The wails of the burning were bringing him peace.

The king watched as Caelyn took a moment to lean on Demetrius' shoulder, ignoring the General flinching away. After a moment, Demetrius hesitantly put an arm around his shoulders, though he couldn't tear his eyes away from the fire. Caelyn hugged him, nuzzled his chin. Both man and boy were drenched in gore.

The Fallen Swordsman ignored the terror and chaos. His clear eyes were shining joyfully. "Are you proud yet, sir?"

Demetrius couldn't answer.

But the rest of the bloody history was written on the Wheel — or would be. There was a truce now.

The king shook himself to the present. He fought to keep his feelings neutral, to focus on the lordly spires of the churches, the golden awnings and small cafes they passed.

It was difficult. Jarvan glanced at the eight other Willow-Doves now accompanying them, the older ones on well-bred silver ponies with crimson saddles, the younger ones simply clinging to their Generals' waists.

The Doves — in black waistcoats the color of Noxian armor, red ties the color of Noxus' flags. With eyes the blue of Demacian banners, hair the gold of Demacian sword hilts.

That's why they called them Willow-Doves. They treaded the boundary between light and dark, the way the doves only appeared at twilight, when the sky was gray.

Though Demacian, the boys were more Noxian than the Generals could ever hope to be.

And try as he might to ignore them, they disturbed Jarvan III greatly.

* * *

Yi watched Karma pout. He shouldn't have been enjoying her frustration, but he was.

Her green silk bathrobe was sloppily tied, and didn't cover the inner curves of her breasts at all. Her dark hair was wound with little white strips of cloth to dry. She was scowling at a small red-green statue of an Ionian dragon, turning it over and over again in her hands.

Yi couldn't decide which one's anger was more impressive. The dragon had bulging eyes and bared teeth, but Karma's face was a study in irritation.

"My dear. You will thank me for not allowing your union with the Noxian."

She muttered something about _mind would…body sure as hell doesn't. _

He smiled. She was so cute when she was angry. So, so cute.

He crossed to her and put warm hands on her shoulders, then began to knead them. She leaned back, felt how hard his dick was through his silk house pants, and looked up at him through the fringes of her bangs.

"Uh - huh. I'd bet you know all about 'union.'"

His grin widened. "Not all about it. But I do know _Kengi Shu_."

_Kengi Shu_ — the Ionian Art of Touching, mastered the world over by Ionians and curious Noxians alike. His hands worked down her shoulders, melting the tension with their pressure and warmth. He slipped the sleeves of her robe down and glanced in the mirror across from them.

Karma's breasts were on the smaller side — especially compared to the other ladies in the League. But Yi adored them. Their firm pertness felt good beneath his searching fingertips. They were a mysterious color that seemed dark by some lights but ivory by others. Regardless, they were soft.

His fingers slipped beneath the swell of them and caressed the space between her full breasts and ribs. Karma smiled and leaned farther back, tilting her head towards him. Her eyes, a light summery green, gleamed beneath her dark eyelashes.

He moved the robe farther to the side and took her tiny dark nipples between his fingers. He pressured them. The squeezing sent a warm sensation rippling through Karma's spine. Yi watched passion overtake her, flushing her cheekbones a light pink.

He gently pushed her back into the red, black silk pillows. She snuggled into them, her legs spread invitingly. He stroked the downy, dark space with his fingers and settled on top of her.

_Union._ His cock was thick enough to push her inner lips apart a little. She squirmed as they grasped at his cock, tried to take it in. She felt herself getting slowly wetter. He watched her green eyes flutter closed. She bit her bottom lip.

"Why are you so damn big?" She muttered.

"Why aren't you used to it?"

"Hush." She swatted him, then moaned as he drove in deep. He grabbed her thighs and hauled her upwards, moving in and out of her easily. Her chin was tucked against the top of her breasts, her dark hair falling into her eyes. Yi sighed as he felt the muscles move under his hands.

His strokes lengthened, and Karma forgot all about Ryland. His dick was sliding against her clit, a sweet, sweet tingle that made her struggle a little bit.

Then struggle a lot.

"Quit it."

"_You _quit it." She panted and looked up at him. He smiled.

"You want me to?" He pulled out and stroked himself, waiting.

"No. No! What are you —"She gasped as he shoved it back in. He laughed and shook his head.

"I can be Noxian if you want me to." He got down on top of her, took her wrists in his hands, and began to lightly nibble her collarbone.

"That tickles!"

"Does it?" He sucked on her neck, right below her earlobe. His breath fluttered there. She squirmed harder. Smiling, he licked the outer curve of her ear and was rewarded with giggles. Her breasts jiggled along with them. "See? I'm tormenting you."

"Oh my _gods_." She playfully punched him. Then her eyes went dreamy again as his cock took up its steady rhythm. Her lips parted. Her moans were quiet but full of passion. They got louder as Yi placed his fingers right above his dripping cock and began to trace a pattern on Karma's pink flesh. A steady circle around the point of her desire.

When he thought she was ready, he squeezed the very tip of it. Karma's orgasm shivered through her. Her body tightened around Yi, squeezing his climax out of him. When both of them were done, he collapsed into pillows that smelled faintly of cinnamon.

"See? No Noxians necessary."

But she had already fallen asleep.

* * *

"Are you sure this is fully…necessary?"

Zandred swallowed hard and glanced at Darius' stony face, along with Erinae's glimmering eyes. The little werecat was trying to hide her glee, but wasn't succeeding.

Katarina du Couteau was tied to a chair with three or four black belts, wearing a slinky little black dress that reminded Zandred of a woman he once knew but now wanted to forget. Her scarlet lipstick was already smudged by the ball-gag in her mouth.

She looked furious, but being second-in-command of Noxus meant Darius' bondage skills had to be legendary. She wasn't getting out any time soon.

"Aye." Darius tugged her hair, not without affection. "We've got to keep this horny bitch off my son."

Zandred's eyebrows rose. "I — I see." _Oh sweet gods. I hate to admit it, but there are times I wish the Noxians hadn't agreed to the truce. _He tried to tell himself to respect other countries' customs, but the internal argument wasn't quite convincing.

"Besides, this is traditional Noxian punishment. It's already happened to her quite a few times."

Katarina tried to snarl something. It was completely muffled.

Erinae sighed with — nostalgia? Zandred almost retched. "Makes me homesick," she muttered. "But see, Zandy? It should all be fixed by tomorrow. Unfortunately."

"T - thank you. I think." He watched Darius and Erinae depart and sighed. He thankfully didn't see Darius rest a hand on Erinae's shoulder, then pull it away with a grimace.

"Oh, where's your sense of adventure?"Erinae batted her eyelashes at him as she scampered along.

"I was never into the Willow-Dove servant thing. It sort of —" He flushed. He'd never told anyone this. "It gave me the creeps for a really long time."

"Pffft." She grinned. "I'm half-cat. We eat birds."

"Sorry, kid."

"Godsdamnit." She looked so honestly disappointed that Darius felt a pang of pity.

"Don't worry. There'll be plenty of Generals here tomorrow. Way more handsome than I am."

"Yeh, but —"

"Everyone's freaking out about the horniness thing." Darius snorted. "Have you forgotten? This is what Noxus is like all the time. You won't need a spell."

"That's a good point." She looked away, huffed and wiped her hands on her purple robes. "Well, then. Guess I'll go rape your son."

"Wait. What?"

She darted away, laughing and waving. Darius bit back a curse and stumbled over Lulu and Veigar kissing one another. Pix was fluttering around, the sparks flickering by his body the color of fireworks. Erinae was probably serious.

But at least Kat wouldn't abuse Ryland for a few hours.

In Zandred's office, the Venerable Summoner sighed deeply. "Thank you," he said to himself. "But did you really have to use _my_ back office?"

Though it felt like a stone dropped in his stomach, he nodded politely to the first three men — Noxian Summoners laughing among themselves, who grew quieter when they saw Kat bound. Her eyes narrowed.

Zandred watched a feral gleam overtake all four pairs of green eyes. _Noxus. _

He excused himself for dinner. He'd already eaten, but — he reflected with a blush that Kat would be eating something soon, and he didn't want to stick around for it.


	9. Of Windy Nights, Noxians and a Blonde

N.B. Lol, what? A vOceanic story getting way out of hand? Wow, what a shocker.

Also I lied like a little bitch. Ryland x Cressida is next chapter. Sorry, readers.

_Table of Contents_

**Gangbang** (Kat x Generals) — pagebreaks **2 - 3**

**Long, romantic lemon** (Vayne x Yasuo) — **3 - 4**

**Mini-Lemon/Memories** (Oliver x Michael) — **4 - 5**

**Finally **(Ezreal x Ryland) — **4 - 5**

**Coming Up Next: **Lots of Ahri, apparently. Miss Fortune, Vi/Jinx/Cait, Twisted Fate/LeBlanc. Ryland x Cressida.

Remember, guys. This isn't canon, so don't get cranky. It's another part of the Wheel. One that doesn't matter. (For instance, did you know? Caelyn Falin's supposed to be dead. Liveliest ghost I've ever seen. In more ways than one, haha). I was also requested Ez x Ryland multiple, multiple times. Might do a second one.

**STORY ENDS TWO CHAPTERS AFTER THIS ONE. I HOPE. You want a lemon? Request it ASAP. **

* * *

"I just — it frustrates the hell out of me."

"I know." Ryland squeezed his shoulder. His knees were beginning to ache.

"She was fine with you —"

"Before I got into the League. Ez, you know my win percent's way higher than hers, right? And I'm usually picked to counter her? By Noxians?"

"It's not that." Ez flipped through a stack of ties and frowned at one covered in bright purple candles and blue lemons. _The fuck? _"Well, it's not only that, anyway. She's insecure."

"About?"

"I don't fucking know. Everything."

Ryland had to hide his smile. It was impossible to explain, even to himself. "Like what?"

"Stupid shit. Like — you got the Torch and she didn't."

"She —"_ graduated from Brightbridge? _He almost asked, then remembered she was an Eagle, a Demacian General. They'd all graduated from there, including the Battle Saints. That's why it had been such a horrible insult when dark-haired Ryland got their highest academic honor, even before they knew he was Darius' son.

"And your family was apparently richer than hers." Ezreal shook his head. The tie beneath that was covered in neon-green snowglobes with dancing skeletons wearing cowboy hats inside of them. _Holy shit. It's like it's from a nightmare. _

"She's wrong about that one. The Whitefields are about one-fourth as wealthy as the Crownguards. Not that I — I really count as one."

Ezreal rolled his eyes. "Like I care anyway. About how rich she is, I mean. She — and this is where she loses me — she thinks you're some sort of sex god."

Ryland didn't know how to respond, but Ezreal obviously wanted him to. "Wait. Where she loses you? Why?"

Ezreal shot him a look. "Come on, Ryland."

"Oh. Oh I see." Ryland chuckled. "You think I'm bad in bed."

"No. Not quite. I wouldn't know, anyway." Ez flushed._ Godsdamnit. _

"Then what?"

"Apparently everyone's attracted to you."

Ryland burst into laughter. It turned the heads of every person shopping, trying to pick out their corsages like three days late. Most of them, but not all, were guys.

"H - holy shi — fuck — what does she mean? I'm hideous."

"What the fuck? No you're not." Ezreal stared at him. _Gods, he's so weird sometimes._ "That's not — she thinks literally _everyone _wants from Noxus wants to fuck you."

Ryland had to pause to recover his breath. A tie caught Ezreal's eye. He snatched it from the discount bin and smiled, satisfied. _Perfect. She'll hate it. _

The Healer shook his head, still coughing. "If — If the godsdamned Demacians were capable of feelings, everyone from her country would want to fuck her."

Ezreal stared at him. Then Ryland clapped a hand over his mouth with a squeak.

"Gee, Ryland," Ezreal said sarcastically. "Really apolitical. Especially right before we meet all the emissaries."

"Shut up." He lowered his voice. "You hate Demacia too."

"Yep. If she was Noxian she wouldn't give a damn about me being gay."

"The fuck?" Ryland was fully snapped out of healer mode, swearing like a Bilgewater pirate. Ez was happy about it. He admired Ryland's dedication to his craft, but everyone agreed he went overboard with it. "She's still bothering you about that? Still?"

"She thinks I'm gay because you're gay."

"I'm not —" Ezreal eyed him. "I'm not! Why does everyone think that?"

"Uh. Well, I do in part because of that dream last night. With that stupid green-eyed guy?"

Ez's teeth were suddenly on edge. He had no idea why, which was just as well. Ta - aikah. Even in a tie store. _It's probably his fucking annoying accent. 'Rylund, d'y'wanna fuck me?' Ugh. _Ez had gotten rid of his Pilt years ago.

Ryland blushed slightly. "That was a dream."

"And I _totally _haven't seen — felt — uh, known you were thinking of those dates you went on with that guy."

There was no real 'sense' word for their mental link.

"What guy?" Ryland asked sharply.

"You know. The guy. The huge scary blonde one. You had, like, educational outings, but when you felt like shit you kinda — I don't know — hypnotized him? I guess? And dated him. Made him show you affection. Not that it was difficult."

Ryland bit his lip. "What else did you see?"

"Nothing. It was just an impression. You were daydreaming a few days ago. Missing him."

Ryland winced. "No I wasn't."

"Bullshit." Ezreal cleared his throat to do an impression of the blonde guy's Low Demacian twang. "'Why was everyone watchin' us?'"

Ryland flushed brighter. Ezreal grinned.

"Ez —"

"And then you said, 'People see what they want to see. And that movie was rather boring, to be fair.'" Ez coughed. Ryland's faint High Demacian accent was difficult to pin down. "My impression of you sucks."

"Yeah." He shook his head. "Yeah, it sure does."

"But hold on — I loved the last part. 'Nah, I really think it's because you moan like a little bitch, Angel. It'd be enough to distract anyone.'" He could tell by the widening of Ryland's eyes that his Oliver impression was really good. "And then you said, 'Maybe. But it's not my fault. It's yours.'"

Ryland groaned. "_Ez —_"

"Then you two made out in an alley behind an indie movie theater. You were daydreaming about how warm he was in the cold autumntide rain. It was kinda like me and Lux yesterday. Actually," Ezreal mused. "Exactly like that. If you know what I mean."

Ryland squinted at him. There was a long pause.

_Being folded into the open jacket of his dress-down uniform. Only coming up to Oliver's collarbone even though Michael was so damn tall and gangly. Pressed to his broadly muscled chest and encircled by his strong arms. The green-gold leaves were plastered to the ground by rain somehow clearer than glass. Blue neon light rippled off the black, crystalline puddles. _

_Dar Regale tasted like apple cinnamon. He kissed Oliver over and over again, sinking deeper and deeper against him. He couldn't quit purring, even though he knew it weirded Oliver out. Dar Regale was so warm. Michael finally pulled away, almost panting. "I'm sorry." "I've gotten used to it." Oliver kissed him gently, then looked at him with one eye closed, lips quirked. "Gotten used to a lot of shit about you, actually. Starting to like it." _

_Before it'd all gone wrong. _

Then Ryland grabbed the tie Ezreal was holding. His eyes widened. "Ezreal. No. You're not wearing this."

"Why not?" Ezreal's grin widened. "I think it's — got a lot of character."

The tie was a monstrosity. Enormous green and gold roses bloomed against a violet-indigo background. The tag was coated with a stack of mark-down stickers. Ryland noted that it was ninety-nine percent off — the store was basically paying people to take it. To spare them the hideousness.

Ryland groaned again. _He's so stupid sometimes._ "Lux is already mad. You're just doing this to spite her."

"She's the one who isn't going to tell me what dress she's picking. What does she want me to do? Guess?" Ezreal headed to the checkout. The Summoners — they always stared anyways. But now they were focused on the tie. A few of them started to laugh.

His corsage was ready, too. A yellow tulip against sprigs of purple violets and a bed of green. All bases covered, no matter which dress she picked.

Ryland got his, a sensible crimson orchid against some small, exotic black flowers Ez didn't recognize.

Ez chuckled. "Yeah, Ryland. Wow. You're so apolitical. Those aren't the colors of the Noxian flag or anything."

Ryland glared at him, flustered by memories and the sheer ugliness of Ezreal's tie. It was unnervingly ugly. "At least my stuff doesn't look like a Yordle shit on it."

Ezreal cracked up and leaned against him, put his arms around his skinny ribs — the Explorer had no idea why Lux was always worried.

A few of the Summoners smirked or sighed.

The pair never noticed. _Love you, _Ezreal wanted to say, but couldn't quite bring himself to.

But he didn't need to say it because he could tell that Ryland loved him too, even as the Healer ruffled his hair and muttered, "Come on, stupid."

* * *

Darius was right. She'd endured — gotten to have? — this sort of punishment many times. Or variations on it.

She still remembered being auctioned off to the man who'd killed the most Demacians in battle. They competed for her sometimes. She was the prize.

One of the times the winner had been Caelyn Falin, who squinted at her and promptly began to untie her.

_No? _

_Nope, _he said, sawing through the bindings with a pocketknife. He glanced at her from beneath his long, gold-red bangs.

He was shaking, but not from lust. It'd been twenty-eight hours since he and Demetrius had last seen each other. They said that Caelyn's trembling began worsening after two hours without the Tactician, and they were right. But he'd do anything to make Demetrius proud, even if he hurt himself. And anything for Noxus. His soul for Noxus.

_Why not? _She felt a little insulted. Disappointed. She loved sleeping with powerful men, even if they were only fifteen.

_You're v - very pretty, but…_

_What? But what? _

_I'm only Demetrius'. His alone. _

_He fucks you? _She sat up and felt the strapless red bra begin to slip. _I knew it. I mean — the opera, of course — _

_Not entirely. Only oral. Finally. And only because I fight so much. He couldn't argue with me anymore. If you're mature enough to kill — I'm r - rambling. My apologies. _He sighed shakily as he undid the last strap and stretched out next to her on the queen-sized bed in Swain Manor. His boots were still sticky with blood and earth. He tried to loosen his lean muscles. They flexed and quivered beneath his gray shirt. _T - though I wouldn't object to being cuddled until he gets here. _

_You are soooo fucking weird. _She gathered him in her arms and held him, giggling when he buried his face in her breasts.

_The gods intended for women t - to be slept upon, _he mused into them, his voice vibrating her chest. _That's why they gave girls built-in pillows. _

_Yeah. I bet it's a nice change of pace — you and Demetrius are both bony. They say your fire powers come from you two trying to fuck. And since it's like two twigs rubbing together — _

Caelyn laughed aloud, fangs flashing. He didn't hide them when he was tired. _Oh, gods. Aye, we're both bony, but it's nothing a blanket doesn't solve when we're trying to sleep. _Then he sighed contentedly. _Thank you for holding me, madam._

_Anything for the Generals. _She kissed his forehead, his cheeks, showering him with affection until he dozed off, a blissful smile on his fox-thin face. He was adorable for a murderer.

She'd awakened with Demetrius' long arms wrapped around her waist, Caelyn in the middle, his face buried in his master's chest. She hadn't wanted to move.

Now, in the present, these three idiots had her. One of them was a cute blonde and looked all of sixteen. He smiled at her as he helped carry her from the chair to the loveseat. They arranged her with her chin on the arm rest, her ass pointing upward, her legs bent over the other arm of the couch. Her toes barely brushed the floor.

"You look very nice tonight."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Don't compliment her." The oldest was fumbling with the knot on the gag. "She's a slut."

"You're a slut," the third guy said to the second one. The youngest one giggled.

_Oh, boy. _Kat sighed internally. She'd gotten a group of friends. Darius knew she preferred guys who didn't know one another, because she didn't have to put up with their stupid jokes.

She swallowed hard as her mouth was freed. They were examining her curiously. They weren't virgins — not quite. But they were cute.

She licked her lips. "Do you three dipshits have names?"

"Shut up, slut," the oldest said with a frown, as the youngest said, "Nathan, Adam and Abner."

"Abner?" She frowned. "What kinda stupid name is —" Her words were cut off by a warm mouthful of cock. She closed her eyes and moaned quietly, sucking at it.

She felt the youngest one's — the blonde, Nathan — fingers inching up her thigh. They flicked aside her thong and eagerly groped at her, squeezing the back of her leg tightly. It stung.

"Scoot over." She heard shifting, then felt her mouth being stretched. Her jaw began to throb as the pair of them pried her lips farther apart, both dicks touching the back of her throat. One of the boys was clutching her chin, forcing it upwards.

Her moaning grew louder as the youngest teen finally got her panties off. Nathan the Youngling was being so very gentle. She actually felt him stroke the tips of her hair as he teased the opening between her legs with the tip of his dick. Her black dress was hitched up past her pale, bare ass.

The other two pulled out and let her breathe. She coughed and looked up at them. "You know, this feels more like I've been locked in the kitten section of a pet store." Her grin widened when the young one laughed.

"Holy shit." The oldest — Adam — scowled at her. "Shut —"

"Lemme guess. 'Shut up, slut'?"

She was actually taken aback when he hit her hard enough to make her see stars. His dick jammed roughly down her throat and began to scrape against her tongue. She squirmed as Nathan's cock flowed into her lower parts and was pleasantly surprised by how thick he was. The third contented himself with stroking himself and pushing her down atop Nathan's dick. She couldn't move — she could only lay there and feel both of her holes being used. Not that she minded.

Was the young one massaging her ass? _Oh my gods. He's such a sweetheart._ She giggled, then choked as Adam's come jetted into her throat. No chance to spit.

He moved to let Abner take her mouth. She felt Nathan's lower belly shiver against her butt as he neared climax. He was squeezing her hips, but not too hard. _Shit. Reminds me of Ryland. _Then she gasped as he came — gods, he was _thick. _

When the last one was done, she sighed.

Nathan swatted Adam. "You didn't have to hit her, man. Sheesh."

Adam glared at him. "Nathan, are you even from Noxus?"

"My mom was born in Ionia," he sniffed.

"I can tell," Kat muttered. "Hey, wait. Is that — is that Challenger Division pin actually yours?"

"You wore your Summoner rank pin to a fucking gangbang?" Abner gaped at his dweeby friend.

Nathan flushed. "Yep. I'm the youngest in Challenger. I, uh. I main Lee Sin."

"He really wore his rank pin." Abner sounded awed. "To fuck Katarina du Couteau. Wow."

"I don't blame him. It's _Challenger_. I'd be wearing that shit everywhere." Kat smiled as Nathan turned a brilliant pink. "So are you three going to untie me?"

"Untie you? Ha." Adam snickered. "Hell no. We're the warm up."

Kat froze. "Warm up."

"Yep." Adam examined his fingernails with a smirk.

"Then who's next?"

"Darius said you'll recognize them," Nathan said with a shy smile. "Good luck!" He darted away, followed by his friends.

There was complete silence, broken only by the steadily dripping rain and the low hum of Zandred's Piltover cooling unit. And Kat's heartbeats.

_Well, that's fucking ominous. _She shifted and tried to snap the cuffs on her wrists, suddenly disturbed. Ryland was Darius' son, after all, and the General took his role as remaining living parent very seriously. Her struggles got her nowhere.

The door creaked open, but it was behind her, so she couldn't look. She almost didn't want to.

_Please don't be Generals. Please please please please _

"Ah. She's still up to the same things as always, I see."

"Except it's Darius' son this time. She's scared even the King of Noxus."

Two of them. She closed her eyes and fervently prayed to Isonius, the Noxian patron goddess of whores, that they weren't Generals. But the goddess — whom the ancient springs of Noxus had been named for — wasn't responding.

The two of them were retired, older, tall, dark-haired. Ex-Generals, of course. She'd been there when their sons replaced them in the Upper Fifty. Caspian Degardo and Mathias Raeford.

"Has she really spooked Darius' son?"

"Wouldn't put it past her," Caspian said softly. "She was always a problem." He sat on the couch and laid her across his lap so that she was looking up at his chiseled face. He didn't seem to see her, tracing the curve of her lips with a rough index finger. He slipped it into her mouth and let it rest on the tip of her tongue. She struggled backwards, trying to spit it out. But the pressure was constant, no matter which way she squirmed.

When he moved it, she hissed and sputtered, "Do I even get a hello?"

"Caspian? Did you hear something?" Mathias' huge hands were working up her legs. The groping wasn't to ease her tension. It was purely for his own pleasure, reflected in his bright green eyes. She gasped as he squeezed the inner curve of her thigh between two fingers.

"Nope." Caspian grinned. "Not a word."

She glared at them. "Fuck y —"

Caspian struck her and shoved two fingers to the back of her throat without changing expression. She felt Mathias begin to pinch the sore, pink flesh between her legs and wailed. He squeezed it and twisted it, spreading her inner lips wide. Her body began to quiver. Months of Ryland's gentleness had her out of practice for this shit.

_ Darius should be the one getting manhandled, _she thought through the pain. _He's the one who sent fucking Caelyn as an emissary. _She loved the kid to death, but he wasn't a diplomat.

She moaned loudly as Mathias dug two broad fingers inside of her and began to work her apart.

"Oh, hush." Caspian rolled her over and grabbed the back of her neck, buried his fingers in her hair. He pressed her face to his swelling erection, rubbed it against her lips through his pants. Mathias' infuriatingly steady fingers shifted with her. He ignored her uncontrollable twitching around his hand. Her body was clenched, but slowly growing more open and wetter. She had nothing to do with it. It was purely biological, a reaction brought on by the strong stroking of her clit. "You'll be thankful for that in a few moments."

"Dunno." She squealed when Mathias added a third finger. Caspian held her neck tighter. Katarina felt his dick hardening against her cheek. "I hear the king's fairly well hung. Couldn't tell from this, anyway."

"Couldn't tell regardless." Caspian unzipped the front of his jeans. She braced herself, but gagged anyways — his dick was overwhelming. All of theirs always were. It was thick and long and seemed to fill her entire mouth with warmth and thick firmness. He tasted of rich and spicy Ionian cologne. He cupped the back of her head to ensure her mouth took every inch it could, burying her face between his thighs. The phallus lingered at the back of her tongue, waiting. When she didn't immediately begin to suck, the pressure on the back of her neck increased ever so slightly — a warning. She rolled her eyes and licked at him. "Du Couteau's never stretch."

"Good for her, then." Mathias chuckled and massaged her aching crevice. Then he flicked her pulsing clit and she winced. "We'd have a trench otherwise."

Her cheeks flushed. "Shut up," she muttered around Caspian's cock.

Caspian's fingers immediately found her nipple through her dress. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

The pressure began immediately. She fought him — _so fucking RUDE_ — and got nothing except Mathias' dick shoved roughly inside of her. It forced her up onto her tiptoes. The muscles of her inner thighs quaked. He'd stretched her and it still hurt, and he still wasn't all the way in. She realized she was choking like an amateur and got even more pissed.

She managed to spit Caspian out and glared up at him through her hair. "That hurts!"

"Poor thing." Caspian guided his dick back into her mouth, pushing insistently at the back of her head until she complied. His other hand was still pinching her nipple. It shifted to her entire breast — the pain seared and burned. Mathias was thrusting into her now-slippery vagina, adamant about filling her up. She closed her knees and felt him pry her thighs open, spreading them apart with one hand. Her moans were close to screams, but once his entire dick was inside of her, she quieted. His strokes slowed, but Kat's muscles were still shaking, protesting the invasion.

Mathias took her thighs in both hands and spread them further. He wanted to watch his cock sliding in and out of her damp hole — she was beginning to drip, the slut. Whenever he pulled out, he could see her womanhood throb. She wanted it.

"You know. I remember her being much more resilient."

"As do I. But the king is a —" Caspian's dick slid down her throat. She cried out. He grabbed her by the jaw and held her there, ignoring the way she gagged and trembled. " — gentleman."

She heard the door creak open again. The accompanying low rumble of footsteps and voices filled her with unease. _How many of them did Darius send? Oh my gods. _

Then her consciousness began to fade into a warped, dreamy state. The Generals had that effect on people, especially in large numbers — their arousal overpowered others, almost like a drug. Many claimed that the Willow-Doves were controlled in part by pheromones. But the chemicals, if they existed, didn't dull the pain.

They freed her hands. She shivered. They were stroking themselves with her fingers, squeezing her digits around their thick shafts and sliding them up and down, enjoying the sight of her dainty crimson fingernails moving around their cocks. She was engulfed by cologne and dark hair, firm hands and savage green eyes. But most of all, sex — the scent of it, the rhythm. She was being manipulated and could do nothing.

They held her various orifices firmly to their cocks, tugging on her hair, pulling at her nipples. A few of them had her asscheeks in their grasps and were spreading them. Exposing her to the chilly air and warm fingers and dicks to be prodded and massaged. She felt one of them tilt her head upward, away from Caspian, and abruptly jam his dick all the way down, almost reaching her esophagus. She felt her thick saliva coating him and wasn't terribly surprised when fingertips slid past her black dress and into her buttocks. A high, sweet pain crested through her as a swollen cock began to wedge into her tight asshole — it had been a long time.

She spat, struggling like an animal. "No!"

"Afraid that's not an option, dear," one of them murmured.

They all forced her to take it — forced her to feel the wet, firm length sliding deeper into her, stretching her anus around it. She shuddered and bucked and was promptly restrained by their hands. She felt herself begin to throb and burn, and her back arched beneath their immovable palms, her black dress beginning to stick to her with sweat. As the cock plunged deeper into her, they muffled her whimpers by slipping two enormous dicks between her half-parted lips, muzzling her.

Her insides were being stretched, too, the satin walls clenching and unclenching with each thrust. One of them held the tip of his dick at the mouth of her opening, then slapped it repeatedly against the sensitive, quivering skin right above it. She struggled again and was promptly secured by their hard, fat cocks. Encouraged by her struggling, that one slipped around her crevice without entering her, slid around the irritated red flesh of her lower mouth, then finally plunged inside her. She screamed.

They didn't care — their thickness held her in place, between them. Her feet weren't even touching the floor. She couldn't move. Not even to take part in the rhythm of their thrusting. Her entire lower half and her mouth was brimming with dick.

They came all over her, taking turns. Her mouth was full of it, her lips spotted with it. She felt it drip down her bare shoulders, from between her legs, across and inside her ass, warm and thick and sliding across her chilled skin. She was still lying there gasping when Mathias undid the _toronado _knot that held her bindings together, freeing her entirely.

She heard them as if she were underwater.

…_leave her here? _

_ That's what he said to do. Apparently King Ryland is in awful shape. _

_ …on bottom? _

_ With Katarina? I think many of us would be, if we were honest with ourselves. Du Couteau's daughter has the spirit of her father. _

_ I'd rather not associate Marcus du Couteau with fucking her, if that's quite alright. He was a fine man, but…_

…_doubt he'd be happy right now. Ha. _

_ …no shame in it. I'd rather the king be on bottom. One has to be a masochist to do all that government work, anyway. _A roar of laughter, retreating like a summer thunderstorm.

An eon seemed to pass before the door creaked open again. She heard a gasp, and the door slammed.

Zandred stood on the other side of his office door, quaking. _Respect their customs, _he chanted to himself. _Respect their customs, respect their — oh, my sweet holy gods. _He tried to count to forty, got to twenty-two, and flung open the door. "Are you — are you alright, Katarina?"

"I'm fine. Just pissed." She sat up, hawked and spat a wad of come onto the carpet. Zandred gagged.

"Do they — they don't really do this to everyone who misbehaves, do they?"

"Yep." She got to her wavery feet and felt her knees shake. She sat back down and shook her head, dizzy. The pheromones were strong. Hadn't worn off yet.

"Even if they're — men?" Zandred swallowed hard. _Respect their — no. No, I don't think I can. _

"Yep. Though it doesn't happen nearly as often, and they get certain people to do it." She tried to stand again. After a moment, she stabilized. _First thing's always first. _"You got a shower in here?"

"Of - of course. I — ahem." He cleared his throat and tried to rearrange his face into his Venerable Summoner look. "I'll get the clothiers to bring you something to change into." _Last thing we need on top of this is a Walk of Shame. _

He showed her to the bathroom, careful not to touch her. He didn't look at her when he came back a moment later carrying towels. She was already undressed and evaluating the damage done to her thighs.

_Fucking enormous. I always meant to ask Darius if they have some sort of standard for dick size to get into the Generals, or if it's just coincidence. _She sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. Besides come, her cheeks were dappled with involuntary tears of pain. She told herself what she always did after a brutal fucking. _I'm gonna be alright. _

She turned on the water, cranked it up to the highest heat, and let the comforting steam embrace her tense muscles. She fell against the shower wall and let the water rush over her.

She hadn't told Zandred the full truth. The Noxians didn't buy into Demacia's politically correct bullshit. Fuck equal treatment. For instance, though she was third-in-command, she had been paid like a lieutenant for about four years, simply because she was a woman.

And the only General who had ever been punished like her was the smallest, youngest one. Caelyn. When he'd set a few too many thousands of people on fire, or when he argued ideology with Jericho Swain, something none of the men twice his height dared to do. Or when the Generals were simply bored. Two of the highest ranked Noxians, treated worse than common whores.

She was there the first time it happened to him, about six months after he'd won her as prize. She was disappointed that the Generals wouldn't let her watch. Apparently _I'm only Demetrius'_ didn't work on the most powerful men in Noxus.

It happened on the lower floor of Swain Manor. Kat spent most of the night upstairs, listening to Caelyn's muffled moans through the floor and fingering herself. Aside from the constant low rumbling of the Generals' voices, she could hear the steady crack of a switch and guessed Caelyn's thighs were lacerated. It lasted for a good three hours.

She remembered lying beside him after it was over with and he'd showered, him cracking an eye open and smiling slightly.

Though his bare, slim chest was dappled with bitemarks and bruises, he murmured, _It wasn't that bad._

_That's because you're a freak._

And she could tell by the faint, laughing gleam in his pale green eyes that she was right. _Do they make you wear a collar, madam? _

_No._ She laughed aloud and saw him smile wearily.

_Interesting. I didn't realize so many of the men I outrank continue to think of me as a pet, even though I've killed, what, ten times the number of Demacian scum they have? _

_Did they tease you really badly? I heard lots of talking. They just fuck me. Don't really talk. _

_Oh, gods yes. They focused more on shaming me than the pain_. He shifted to lie on her boobs, to nuzzle them. He loved doing that. She stroked his aching back. _Made fun of Demetrius, too, because they knew that actually angered me._

Kat hadn't even thought of that. _Was he there?_

_Nope._ He snickered. _Then I would've enjoyed it entirely. If only because he's cute when he's angry, and he would've been. Still going to be, actually. _

_What'd they say? _

_I think my favorite was 'Your master has a housework fetish. That's why he's in love with his servant. The way you mop the floors really gets him going.' Would've chuckled, but of course General Degardo's dick was in my throat. Complicates things._

Katarina laughed so hard she choked. The way he told it — with his curiously flat voice, sarcastic smile and mischievous pale eyes — had her laughing so hard her stomach hurt.

…_Then they said something about how most of my kills didn't count because I'd set them on fire instead of killing them like a real man. I pulled back and said, 'You should ask them about that. If you can. Which you can't. Because they're dead.' And Degardo said, 'Is he still talking? Someone shut him up.' And Irving said, 'Your speeches are a lot less graceful after an hour of throat-fucking, Falin Boy.' Someone else said, 'Better five-hundred-thousand cocks in Noxus than one dick in Demacia.'_

Katarina clapped her hands over her mouth and barked laughter. Caelyn snuggled against her.

_And as they tied me to a chair, someone started to mutter one of the ballads from the opera about me under their breath and replace every second word with 'dick.' You know — 'their dicks crushed, my dick denied' instead of 'city' and 'heart,' respectively. _

_Oh my fucking gods._

Caelyn was grinning. Though Demacia considered him a demon and worse, Kat thought he was charming.

_And I suppose you can guess what happens next. _

_No, _she said sarcastically. _I need a hint. _

He leaned against her and whispered into her ear, pale green eyes playful, _lots and lots of fucking. _

She was still laughing when Demetrius appeared in the doorway, eyes sparking with fury that faded rapidly to concern. The half-light rendered him little more than a tall, long-limbed shadow.

_Are you alright? _

_I'm fine, master. Enjoyed myself, actually, though I know that's not what you want to hear. _

Demetrius shook his head, then shook it harder. _Most of these men have lost my respect tonight. _

_He calls you 'master' with a straight face in front of them, _Kat pointed out. _The fuck did you think was going to happen? _

_A fine point, Ms. Du Couteau. _Demetrius' shoulders slumped.

_It's fine, sir. Really. Whatever Noxus desires is my will. I deserved it._

Demetrius looked at him, half-smiling, green eyes deep with sympathy. _Deserved it for what, child? What possibly? _

Caelyn tried to sit up, but his stomach muscles were still too cramped. He fell backwards onto Katarina. She caught him and held him tight.

_I always deserve it_, he said primly.

_You always say that. _Demetrius hesitated, then laid down beside them and pulled Caelyn on top of his broad chest — the boy's shoulders were literally half his' width. He noticed Katarina envying the way they cuddled and pulled her close, too. After spending most of his life lost in black depression and isolation, Demetrius Falin was very sensitive to anyone who felt left out. She snuggled closer to the two of them. Fuck Demacia's 'no touching' policy, too.

Demetrius thumbed the massive bruise on Caelyn's neck. Where the buckle of the collar had been.

The boy leaned into him, eyes closed, purring invitingly. _I love you, master. _

_I love you as well._ Demetrius sighed tiredly, resigned to life in Noxus. _Is the Sinister Blade really your recovery nurse? _

_She's highly qualified._

_How so?_

_Her breasts are very comfortable, sir. _

Katarina laughed as loudly as Demetrius groaned.

In the present, Kat let the soap slide over her body, the white suds replacing the semen. She ran her fingers through her hair, working the knots out of it. She began to think of ways to get Darius back.

And maybe a way to apologize to Ryland. If Darius thought she deserved that, Ryland had to be feeling like shit.

* * *

Shauna Vayne needed a drink. The restlessness in the air was making her feet tap, her legs bounce. She finally decided to give into it, tired of fighting.

She sat out on foot after dark, her crossbow slung across her back. Something weird was in the air — didn't take a Night Hunter to know that much. She knew better than to go unarmed.

She took some of more deserted paths that cut through the Institute. Or paths that were usually deserted. Tonight, they were crowded by shifting, shadowy bodies, couples caressing and moving with one another, flowing to a rhythm that Vayne could almost hear but not quite.

Still, save for these interruptions, she mostly felt at peace with the warm, dark air around her. The nocturnal flowers were blooming. She smelled eve-jasmine and blue collaraine, saw a slice of warm orange peering through the thick navy clouds.

She normally didn't feel lonely. Loneliness — it was a stupid emotion, one only weaklings indulged in. Yet, the couples surrounding her made her chest ache. _Good gods. Is it mating season? _The sight of two boys pawing one another made her upper lip curl with disgust. _Godsdamned Noxians. They'll fuck anything that crosses their paths. No morals at all. _

She thought of who they claimed — or wanted to claim — as king and shook her head. It was unfortunate that she and Ryland had such good synergy on Summoner's Rift. She couldn't stand him — not the way he tried to cover up his evil heritage with sweetness, or his fake shyness. The whole healer thing was obviously just a sham.

And Ezreal. How did someone as brilliant as the Prodigal Explorer not realize he was being taken for a Willow-Dove, a serving boy? Shauna shuddered along with Luxanna whenever she saw the pair of them touching, Ezreal looking up at Ryland with such obvious adoration written across his face. It was a shame to lose such a fine mind to the carnal allure of Noxian pleasure. A damn shame.

She was still musing on the grotesque habits of the Race of Night when the air went still around her. The crickets stopped chirping, and the fireflies seemed to grow dimmer.

The skin on the back of Shauna's neck began to prickle unpleasantly. Her hand inched towards her crossbow. _Are those who I think they are? _

They were. Generals. Well, ex-Generals. She recognized some of them — her missions had often taken her into the shadowy underbelly of Noxus to gather information, called on her to brush shoulders with the vilest of men. She could pass as Noxian. Her thick crop of black hair — she'd once thought it was a curse. But it was helpful. All she had to do was let her hair down in silky waves, slap on a red dress and she was in.

The broad-shouldered men were laughing quietly among themselves, fresh from the hunt. Vayne heard Katarina's name and grimaced. _Such a strong woman there, too. But turns into a child whenever these men are around. So many people do. _

She could tell they'd just finished with her. The way they were strolling along, and the disarming pheromones reeking off of them, along with their signature colognes — a sweet, spicy smell like Ionian tea.

_I'll never understand. It takes more than cologne and a suit to make me weak-kneed. _

As one, hearing her thought, they turned to her. She saw their green eyes flash an inhuman silver by the dim light, their slightly-too-feral smiles glimmer by the moon. Where others saw power and handsomeness and — hell forbid — love, Shauna Vayne saw only demons wearing the high-class clothes of men.

They were sizing her up. Assessing her. For the hunger of evil was never sated.

One of them chuckled and cracked his fingers. "Oh, come on, men. Let her be lonely. She's determined to."

"How can you tell that, Travin?" Another of them smiled. "Is it the angry stare?"

"No, I was actually considering the crossbow."

"I rather think it's the stare," one of them coughed. "I find people wielding crossbows are always civilized and easy to talk to, especially when they point it towards my face, as she's doing now." A low-pitched cannonade of laughter.

"But that stare," said another. "Now, that's a hell of a message."

"One you all had best understand," she said softly, then regretted it as their postures lost their relaxed look.

"Hmm. I don't know, Mathias. I could use a challenge. Katarina just sort of laid there and took it. Not that she had a choice." His eyes flashed when Vayne flinched.

"Aye." Another of them took a deep drag from a twinkling cigar and tipped ash from it, a slow, graceful, unnerving gesture. Vayne's heart began to thud. "But this one looks lively."

A pause, as thick as the evening air. They were waiting patiently for Vayne to respond. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"That's a good point, Caspian." The man raised his voice. "Don't you all agree?"

They moved towards her, and not for the first time, Shauna Vayne found herself unwillingly admiring her enemies. They moved with the eerie grace of wolves, slipping through the shadows as though their bodies were made of smoke. She slowly backed away, bow held in front of her.

"I don't want any trouble."

The man in the lead — one known, Shauna knew, for torturing Demacians to the brink of insanity — smiled. "Then don't scream."

"Aye," said another. "But do struggle. We love that."

_Oh, fuck. There are too many of them. _She felt her knees weaken at last, but not from lust. From fear.

Then —

A sound like rushing wind, a gale that lifted her thick black hair and swirled it around her. She was so startled she almost dropped her bow.

A deep voice. "She said she doesn't want any trouble, in case you old men are hard of hearing."

She glanced beside her. There, outlined in the moonlight, stood a man with bulging muscles and a silvery blade of unknown origin. His dark eyes were slanted with anger, his jaw strong and spotted with stubble. Her knees were still weak, but she was no longer sure of the cause.

The General in the front sighed, irritated. He had to talk over the loud wind, which was still raging. "Very well then. She's not worth the hassle anyway."

"No, not really. I'm sure there're other younger, prettier women roaming around. Just have to actually look instead of stroll past them."

"But the hunt's part of the thrill, isn't it?" The man smiled at Vayne and bowed as he and his cohorts walked away. "Good eventide to you, m'lady. Luckily for us, it won't take long to find your better."

_Ouch, _Vayne thought, and was abruptly seething with irritation. She waited impatiently for them to vanish into the night, then whirled on the man beside her.

"I didn't need you to save me, Mr. White Knight," she hissed.

The gale slowed and quieted, and the evening returned to its previous summertide stillness. Around them, the frogs began to sing again. He sheathed his thin blade and eyed her. The broad, firm planes of his face made her scowl deepen. He was handsome. But she was still pissed.

"Didn't save you. Just told them what you said. Besides, I can't stand the damn Noxians."

"Really?" She looked him over. He stared back at her calmly — he was obviously used to letting other people assess him. His button-up black silk shirt was open, revealing thick abs and wide, wide shoulders. The cloth was embroidered with golden Ionian dragons whose scales glittered even in the dim light. And he was heavily scarred. His skin was torn from countless conflicts, and his hands callused and rough from years, Vayne surmised, of blade training. "Let me guess. Ionia?"

His face formed into a crooked smile. "How'd you know?"

She chuckled, still a little shivery from the adrenaline drop. "Seems I'm not the only one wandering around armed."

"You kidding? This place is losing its mind." He paused, debating with himself. He'd wanted to walk the Institute alone and guessed the woman standing before him had planned the same thing. She was dressed sensibly, most likely not planning on company. She had on simple tight black pants and a soft dark blue shirt. No makeup, which was more startling than it should've been. He knew he should leave her alone.

But the way she'd dealt with the Noxians was — interesting. Most people just ran.

And her hair…its sleek, ebony glossiness reminded him of the larrimore trees that surrounded his home.

Well. His old home.

He nodded, suddenly tired of feeling alone. "Where're you headed?"

"Towards _the Lady of the Banners_."

"That little Demacian dive-bar?"

"Dive, huh?" She poked him, surprising him. "You got some fancy tastes, breezy?"

"Not really." His grin turned sly. "That being said — mind if I join you?" He was relieved by her broad smile, more feminine than he expected. Most women found his harsh sense of humor off-putting, to say the least.

"Sure. Could use a little wind. It's hot out tonight."

They made their way along in silence that should've been awkward, but wasn't. It wasn't until they passed through the Institute gates that Vayne thought to ask, "Who are you, anyway? Haven't seen you around."

"Yasuo. Of Ionia." He saw her note the lack of last name, drawing her own conclusions. The only custom shared by all of Runeterra's races was dropping one's family name when dishonored by or displeased with one's ancestors. So you had Darius of Noxus, formerly Darius Darkwill, and Ezreal of Piltover, instead of Lightbringer. It was an interesting counterpoint to the venerated families of Demacia, like Vayne, Crownguard and Whitefield, and Noxus, such as Falin, Degardo, Raeford and White.

"Shauna Vayne." She shook his hand without breaking her stride. "Pleased to meet you."

"Heard your name before. Not just from the League." He shoved aside a couple of gawking Summoners. There was an impromptu carnival going on, all brightly-sparkling spheres and torches, masks and magic. The crush of sweating bodies added to the heat of the night.

"Really."

"Mhm. They say you're a hero." As they neared the bar, the chaos faded a little, though the streets and plazas were still thronging. "That you protect Demacia from the inside, not just from the battlefield."

"Someone's got to do it." She saw his face darken a little. "The job's not for everyone, though."

He nodded. "I admire that. I tried that once. Protecting Ionia."

Vayne winced. _I'm going to get him a beer after stepping in for me…even if I didn't need him to._ "Damn Noxians."

He nodded. "Yep."

"What are you doing out here? Pretty far from home."

"Waiting on my League Judgment." They entered the bar. Yasuo had to duck to avoid the low-hanging lamps, orangey globes that seemed to create shadows instead of light. At the counter, a pale woman with a cloud tattoo was stroking the knee of a black man and grinning. The black man had two guns hanging from his waist and was doing his best to ignore her, concentrating intently on his glass of cheap wine. "In more ways than one. A lot of us are."

"Mmm." She looked him over once more. "You'll get in."

"You think so?" That crooked smile again. The two of them grabbed a booth in the farthest corner. She hesitated when he took the seat that faced the door. He patted the space next to him. "I can imagine why you'd want to watch who's coming and going. The Generals have a long memory."

She slid in next to him, careful not to touch him. But when he leaned slightly nearer, she didn't move away. "So do your people."

"Not really my people." He leaned onto his hands. Vayne admired his forearms and realized she was blushing. He was all rock-hard muscle. Not even Garen Crownguard was that ripped. "Not anymore."

She smiled ruefully. "You kill someone?"

"Yep."

There was a brief interruption as the tan, big-breasted Kaladownian girl swung by to take their orders. He grunted in mock irritation when Vayne insisted on paying for everything, then ordered two enormous, heaping platters of onion rings. One turn of the Wheel deserved another — he guessed Shauna knew that. He played with the saltshaker, twirling it between his hands.

She glanced at him. "Mind if I ask who it was?"

"My brother." He set the saltshaker down and sighed heavily. He had no idea why he was telling her. Maybe it was the way she was looking at him without hatred. It had been a long time since he'd seen a friendly face. "I killed my brother."

She took it without a blink, and Yasuo figured the tales of Shauna Vayne were true. She'd seen some shit. "My family's dead too. From evil."

He looked at her, head cocked curiously. "They thought I was a murderer. Even before — before Yone."

She shrugged. "I can understand. The Demacians thought I was a Noxian, so I became one in part."

"My, my. We're just totally fucked up, aren't we?" He thanked the waitress for his mug of mountain ale and took a grateful sip. "But yours — I'm guessing it wasn't your fault."

"No, but it feels like it." She glanced at him. "Like —"

"The weight of your country —"

"Your bloodline —"

"Is crashing down on your shoulders." He looked at her, startled by how similar their thoughts were. The dim orange lamp-light didn't do her justice. He could barely see the soft curve of her chin, her high cheekbones, the way her brown eyes seemed to have shimmering undertones of gold, the way her ebony hair gently framed her face. She was examining him in the same way. "Well. Have another reason to hate Noxians, now."

"Which is?" She nibbled on one of the battered coatings of the onion rings, looking away. She didn't know why she was starting to feel connected — especially to such a handsome man.

"What they said to you. About finding younger, prettier Summoners. It was a pretty low blow."

She smiled and took a drink. "Well, to be fair. The entire Institute may be losing its mind, and everyone's flinging themselves at one another, and I — well —" She flushed. "As you can tell, I've been skipped over."

"I don't understand that. You're very attractive."

She laughed aloud. "You. Think someone like me. Is attractive. Please, spare me."

"I do. I'm very honest. Usually get called 'blunt.'" He took another drink. "You seeing anyone?"

"I can see why they call you 'blunt.'" But she was smiling. Yasuo had the same sort of straight-forward, to-the-point manner she did. It was refreshing, especially after all the entanglements of Demacian government work. Of course, the strange mental craze going around the Institute was probably helping them along a bit, too. "And no. I, uh. Haven't had time for romance. Or the desire."

"Everyone desires human companionship at one point or another." He popped a few more of the rings into his mouth. "These are pretty damn good." He winked. "For a dive bar."

She hesitated, then squinted at him, "I don't — I can't really see myself being your type. All the other women in the League — they're —"

"Girly? Yeah, I've watched a lot of the matches. Like Sona, I'm guessing you mean."

"Mhm."

"Or Katarina." He said her name with a sneer, and Vayne wondered if he'd tried to face her. The archangels knew Vayne sure had. The Sinister Blade was impossible to kill.

"Mhm."

"But I prefer a woman who's down to earth. And everyone has different tastes. I think —" _Why is she so easy to talk to? _"I think I'd find most of the League's women pretty uninteresting, especially by comparison."

"Comparison to what?"

"You."

She snorted and took a long, long drink of her beer, trying to hide her scarlet blush. "Sorry, Yasuo of Ionia. I'm gonna have to call bullshit on that one."

"Oh?" He smiled and cracked his back. "Bet you were out wandering alone, weren't you."

"Nice deduction." She snorted again. He tried not to laugh — the nervousness she was feeling was palpable. But it wasn't really fear of him. Rather, she thought he was handsome and didn't know if he was teasing her. _How many times has she been teased in the past? Ugh. _He thought again of what the Generals had said and felt even angrier.

"I was wandering alone, too, and planned to the rest of the night. And almost did. But I found your composure back there — interesting."

"I've been with the Generals before. Almost got raped."

He sighed internally and let her change the subject. "Just now?"

"No, a few years ago. Near the end of the war. I was at a very, very fancy party. Trying to free their servant boys. The Doves. After the Great Burning."

Yasuo winced. The Great Burning was one of the worst things Noxus had ever done. He'd heard horror stories about it, the most prevalent of which was that one boy was behind the torrential blaze. One boy desperate to please his master and Jericho Swain. The idea of such uncontrollable power…but that was impossible.

"And?"

"And their servants didn't want to be freed." She shrugged and chugged her beer, signaling for another. "They knew I was Demacian, of course, and I couldn't convince them to keep quiet. Next thing I know, Degardo — not the one we just met, a different one, his son I think —"

He nodded, though he had no idea what any of their names were. In Ionia, neither they nor the Noxians concerned themselves with names. Just killing.

"He leaned into me and whispered, 'You don't belong here, little girl.' And slid his hand up my thigh." She sighed. Her thought echoed his earlier one: _Why am I telling him this? _"And it was sort of the same thing. One of his friends tapped him on the shoulder and said, 'Degardo, she's not terribly attractive. Not worth the fuss Demacia's going to make during the peace talks. If you let her go, I'll go buy you a prettier whore. Wouldn't be difficult.'"

Her High Noxian accent was pretty damn good. No wonder she'd made it all the way into their inner circle.

"Fuck Noxus," Yasuo muttered.

Vayne laughed, embarrassed. "But it wasn't really what he said. It was the way he said it — just — flatly. Matter of fact."

"So the Noxians don't find you attractive. Is that really a bad thing?"

"The Demacians don't either. So — that's why I don't really believe you, when you say it."

His eyebrows rose. "I can prove it."

"Oh?" She looked at him with darkly-twinkling brown eyes. The color in her pale cheeks was starting to rise.

"Mhm." It suddenly seemed very important to him to prove it to her. "My room's a block from here."

She blushed into her drink. He waited patiently for her to make her decision, fully prepared if she said no.

"Well. It's been a while." She met his eyes. Her heart was pounding again. "And I'm —"

"I doubt you're bad at it"

"Then I can prove that to you." She smiled, and Yasuo felt his heart melt a little. "Let's go."

The Kaladownian waitress watched them leave, then scarfed the rest of their onion rings. She wasn't horny, surprisingly. Just hungry.

The carnival faded even more as the two loners neared the apartments. They weren't the richest quarters, but they were clean and up-kept. Vayne felt fairly safe, though she still kept one hand on her crossbow in case things went bad.

She watched him stalk the night in front of her, heard him whistling. She chided herself for her nervousness — everyone indulged in these sorts of things all the time. Like the three couples sitting on the edge of the lion fountain. They were all intertwined, a slow-moving orgy.

"Wow." Yasuo shook his head as they walked inside. "You'd think they'd find a better place to do it, eh?"

"Like where?"

"Here." He flicked on the lights in his apartment. Vayne grinned.

"You sure you're Ionian?" She laughed sarcastically. "I couldn't tell from all your stuff."

The bed was at least a queen, if not larger, the headboard two carved wooden dragons. Three or four swords were hung in a neat row above it. The lamps were made of paper and painted with intricate designs, and wooden lotuses floated in a bowl of cherry blossom-scented water atop a small dresser.

Instead of answering, he took her face between his two huge palms and kissed her. He felt her startled gasp, heard it deepen into a moan as he took her hips in his hands. His gentle fingers roamed across her body, starting from the top of her dark hair and brushing across the silky flesh of her neck. When he kissed her there, she shivered.

He looked at her. "And you honestly think you're bad at kissing."

"Just like you think you're a bad person." She leaned into him. Something about her — her wide, almond eyes. They made his skin tingle. "I can tell you're not."

He cupped the back of her neck. His other hand traversed her shoulders. She was slim but compact, with tight muscles and firm white skin. Against his tan arms, she looked like milk being stirred into coffee. Tasted a bit like coffee, too, a natural sweetness, almost like dark chocolate. Becoming curious, his kisses deepened.

She pulled away. "I — I'm sorry. I'm so bad at this."

"I can stop if you want me to. But you're doing just fine." He cocked his head. "I don't want to scare you."

"It's not you. It's —"

"How you feel?" His lips quirked.

She blinked, startled. Blushed. He saw the vulnerability on her face. "Didn't realize Breezy was so sentimental."

"I'll take it slower." He kissed her gently, waited for her to respond to each movement of his lips. She eventually took up his rhythm. Her tongue explored the tip of his, then deeper.

He felt anticipation building in the lower part of his stomach and knew it was the same for her. He could tell by how eager she was getting. How her kisses were slowly becoming playful, little nips at his lower lip, tongue-flicks at his upper one. He smiled against her mouth and wound his fingers deep into that dark hair, so similar to the larrimore trees in the early dawn.

When his fingers neared her breasts, he felt her hesitate.

"Just tell me to stop," he murmured into her ear.

"I don't want you to." She pressed her body to his. She was both warmth and softness — something Yasuo hadn't had very much of in his life lately. "I'm just not used to it."

"I'll be gentle." He met her eyes as his fingers slipped towards the peak of her right breast. He watched her pupils contract, then darken with desire. His pinch was as light as air.

Her hands groped for him, clumsy in their eagerness and inexperience. But Yasuo didn't mind. He kissed her as her hands found his hard abs and began to stroke them. His dick was beginning to stiffen slightly.

She seemed to grow more and more beautiful every time he looked at her. Soon she wasn't a sensibly dressed woman, but an exotic goddess, with hair as black as ink and skin as white as unused parchment. He slowly lifted her shirt above her head, revealing a smoke-gray bra and curved breasts.

He peeled the cups away and lapped at the flesh beneath them lightly. The wet warmth of his tongue made her tremble, especially as it slipped to the very point of her nipple and lingered there. He glanced up at her with laughing eyes, then swirled his tongue back and forth.

She swatted him. "That tickles!"

"Does it?" He undid his pants. She did the same. Her cheeks were flushed, her body stippled with goosebumps. Her shyness was losing itself in a bright pink flush. He watched her tug them off. She wasn't intending to please him with the display, but did anyway — her ass had just the right amount of bounce to it.

Then that little pause again. Her blush deepened as he removed his dark-green boxers. His long, tan cock curved slightly to the right. Shauna seemed almost mesmerized by it.

"Hey. Demacian Hero? You still with me?"

She shook herself. "I — um — yeah. Wow." Her eyelashes actually fluttered. "You're enormous. I don't know —"

"If I'll fit?" He blushed and looked away. "Well, we never know —"

"Unless we try." She laid down on the silky sheets and looked at him, eyes tracing his body up and down without shame. He climbed into bed beside her and rested a huge palm on the curve of her quivering lower belly.

"See? You're attractive."

"You — kinda make me believe it."

"Kinda?"

He lowered his mouth between her thighs. Her back arched. He was running his tongue up and down the length of her slit. She panted and reached for his shoulders, and he dove deeper inward. The sweetness — it was down here, too. Her flesh was soft, luscious. He enjoyed exploring it with his mouth.

After a few minutes, she rolled onto her stomach and took him in her own mouth. Her suckling was timid, but grew bolder as he stroked her neck. His warrior's body quivered as his dick made its way down her silken throat. She hesitated — it was much thicker than any she'd ever had. But she'd already come this far.

Yasuo watched as her mouth opened as wide as it could. She swallowed his cock, took all of it he could give her, felt her tongue teasing the bottom of his shaft, her hair tickling his legs. They both gasped when he pulled out.

"You're…very pretty. Don't listen to the Generals." He lifted her up by the shoulders and laid her on top of him. He cradled her there with strong arms, then tweaked the tip of her nose. The smile on her face was somehow — a relief. He hoped she'd begin to smile more, after this.

She let him begin to inch his cock inside of her. The pleasure concentrated around the tip of it. It was nice, but the look of dreamy bliss overtaking Shauna's face was somehow even more delightful. That, and her dark hair trailing down her skin in thick ebony loops. _As graceful as the wind-blown banners fluttering in the springtide breeze…_

He was deep inside of her, and she was loving it. Every movement he made was echoed by her shivering internal muscles. She wrapped her legs around his waist and let his cock penetrate her fully, let it squeeze and nestle in deep. She leaned back, sweetly curved lips parted, cheeks flushed.

He stroked her jaw. When she met his eyes, he smiled. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes," she whispered through her curtain of dark hair. "Yes, I do."

He laid down and gradually made his strokes harder, deeper, longer. She gasped and moaned with each one. It was more than their bodies being joined, though that, too, felt sweet. Rather, it was two lonely people come together in one moment — a brief epoch of unity. He looked at her peaked nipples, watched her breasts quiver with each thrust.

Then the come flowed from him into her in a warm gush. The orgasm squeezed both of them — her teeth sank lightly into his neck.

They lay like that one moment. Then he gathered her in his strong arms, caressing her face. "You weren't skipped over after all."

"No." She leaned into him, fully relaxed at last. "Just had to wait on the right person."

* * *

Ryland's heart sank as he and Ezreal headed back towards the Supports' Quarters. They'd both decided, without exchanging a word, that they were staying in tonight.

The violet-gray twilit summertide haze was full of half-glimpsed couples. They were little more than silvery shadows in the fog, groping, pawing and sliding against one another with the slippery grace of water itself.

With his Noxian inheritance — his heightening nocturnal awareness — Ryland could hear their heartbeats. How they accelerated in fluttery excitement, or slowed to a steady, sure rhythm. And he could hear their thoughts. Lots of _I love them _and _I know they're the one. _

He'd never felt that way about Katarina. She knew it, too. But she was so in love with him she didn't care.

A memory, not too long ago:

_Ryland. You don't have to tell me. It's pretty obvious. _

_ Is it? _

_You're not gay. It's just — I'm not your type. But we can make it work. _She tossed her ruby hair proudly. He saw her eyelashes flutter to hide a glimmer of tears and felt like shit. _Make it work for as long as you want. _

_ Kat, I do love you. _

_ Yeah, but not in that — you know. 'I'm totally yours' kinda way. _

_ Maybe I can't love that way at all. I mean —_ he laughed nervously, wishing she'd undo the bindings that secured his wrists to the posts of their bed. And she was still squeezing his semi-erect cock contemplatively. _I was beaten every single day for, oh, about as long as I can remember. _

But Ryland knew that wasn't it. He felt that way — the _I'm yours _love — for Ezreal. Without the romantic part. Whenever he tried to explain this to someone, be it Soraka or his father Darius, they just looked at him strangely and patted him on the head.

_You feel how you feel. _

He shook himself as they passed two teenage girls licking eagerly at one another's lips. He could smell strawberry lip-gloss and cheap drugstore perfume, almost as thick as the night air. He heard Ezreal snicker.

_ My fault, _Ryland thought suddenly. _This is my fault. They — the emissaries are all going to think this place is just an excuse for an orgy, when it's for peace and justice and — and —_

Ez squeezed his shoulder. "Relax."

"Easy for you to say." _Life must be so much better when you look like that. Like an angel. _Ryland shivered.

Ezreal frowned slightly. The damage to their mental link kept him from hearing the entire thought. "Not really. I cheated on my girlfriend with a mermaid. And Lux actually cares about that sort of thing."

"I — I love Nami to death, but I really don't know how you were horny for her."

Ezreal shrugged. "I don't get how you had the hots for a dude, but, eh. No accounting for taste, right?" He nodded towards the bag with his ugly tie in it and felt himself ramble. Sometimes he just couldn't quit talking. Usually when he was anxious. "Never knew what the fuck that meant, exactly. How do you account for taste in the first place? Is that why there's no accounting for it? Or —"

Ryland ruffled his hair. "Don't hurt yourself."

Ezreal lifted his chin. "I'm just saying. That's what they say."

For all his nocturnal awareness, Ryland didn't notice the nervousness in Ezreal's voice.

They passed into the Atrium. It was fully dark, black, save for the silver myth-tree and the red paper lanterns strung among the silver branches. They twinkled like a galaxy, stars suspended in the liquid night.

Ryland glanced at Ezreal. He was smiling, his face as handsome as the marble archangel statues that graced the street corners of Demacia. His features were bathed in light and dark — the lamps outlined the curve of his cheeks and jaw. The bruises and the vampress bite on his soft neck were the color of storm clouds.

And the lights were reflected in his azure eyes. It reminded Ryland of the summertide fireworks above the lake last week, the dark water capturing the silver sparkle and keeping it there.

His heart suddenly felt like it was going to burst. _Why is he so beautiful? _

Ez turned to him, eyebrows raised. "You okay?"

It took a moment for him to answer.

"Yeah." He led Ez towards his room — after Ezreal and Lux's fight earlier, there was no way the two of them were sharing a room tonight. Ryland saw Soraka watching them with golden eyes and thought her face was full of approval. "I'm fine. Except for that fuck — ah —"

Ezreal's smiled widened. "You can swear. I actually kinda like it."

"Your fucking tie." Ryland put their corsages in the Piltover Customs fridge for safe-keeping, then flicked on the viewscreen hanging on the wall. He and Ez often watched replays of their matches and made fun of one another's mistakes. And of how one another talked.

_Yo, sick Arcane Shift, hometown hero. _Ryland rolled his eyes. _Right into the fucking teamfight. Amazing. "Wow, team, no peeling. I'm the ADC. I know everything. Let me just throw myself in Kassadin's face." _

Ezreal pinched him. _Pardon me. You see that wolf running right there? How it totally passes everyone without damaging them? That's a fantastic skill shot. Now watch, if you will —_ He cracked up. _Ryland, your accent. I can't. Holy crap. _

But Ezreal wasn't laughing right now. Instead, he was watching Ryland closely, seeming to search him for something. Ryland let him look for a few moments, then said, "Yes?"

Ezreal blinked. "Mind if I shower?"

"Nope. Go ahead. After touching that tie —"

"You really fucking hate it, don't you?" Ezreal's face darkened.

"I'm joking around. I know there's nothing else you can do about it," Ryland said soothingly. He was used to Ezreal's mood swings. "It really was the only green-gold-purple one. I looked, too."

Ezreal sighed harshly, then paused again. He was hiding his face behind his green-gold pajama pants. He always kept two pairs of sleep clothes in Ryland's room. "Do I get to use your good soap?"

"The DiCarteri Blackwood Pine Cleanse?" He smiled, hoping Ez would too. Referring to things by their ridiculous brand name usually made him crack up.

But Ez didn't. He was looking at the floor. "Mhm. I think I'm in love with the smell."

"It's pretty good, yeah. Top-right shelf."

"Mhm." Ezreal paused again. There was a chorus of frogs camping outside Ryland's window. Their song was so loud, it was almost obnoxious. He shot Ryland a look. "I won't use all of it. I know it's expensive."

Ryland cocked his head. "You can. It's alright."

"_Nope_." He squinted at Ryland, who squinted back. The Healer realized Ezreal's hands were shaking.

_What? _"Ez, are you —"

"I'm fine." He closed the bathroom door a little harder than he probably meant to. After a few moments, the water began to roar.

Ryland changed into black pajama pants, leaned back against his black-silk pillows, tuned the viewscreen to the Noxian news, and sighed. Tiny exchanges like that never failed to remind Ryland that he and Ezreal were unstable.

With Ezreal — he was moody, insecure, prone to depression. Ryland's ran a little deeper. He heard and saw things that weren't there. Sometimes they were spirits channeled by his healing powers. More often not.

_I don't want to think about it. _He tried to listen to the Noxian news anchor. Of course she was a beautiful, dark-haired, large-breasted woman in a revealing crimson dress. _That fucking country. And they think I'm their king. _He snorted. _Godsdamnit. _

"…Demetrius and Caelyn Falin selected, which many deem an unusual move in terms of diplomacy. In addition, the Fifth through the Twentieth Generals are escorting them, notably Charles and Andrew White, Vincent Degardo, Tobias Isaacs and Brandon Rowan. Generals Isaacs and Rowan announced their engagement to one another three months ago and have received the blessing of their families this week. Their marriage is expected to take place this winter."

Ryland's eyebrows rose. _What? Brandon…and Tobias? _

"And, naturally, the Willow-Doves are accompanying them, including — now let me see." The anchor smiled indulgently and referred to the cue cards in her hand. "Asher Rowan, Linnaeus Isaacs, Ryan and Wren White, Ethan Davenport, Sterling Raeford, along with two others. Goodness, what a mouthful."

_No kidding, _Ryland thought. _Linnaeus Isaacs. Tongue twister. _

"Sources say that the delegates will be riding through the night without rest and that relations are, while not strained, not entirely friendly either." She laughed and patted her hair, light leaving her eyes. "Of course, when one's been at war for fifteen-hundred years —"

Ryland abruptly changed the channel to a Freljordian hockey game and put his head in his hands. The last thing he wanted to think of was the war.

Not that the next thing that came to mind was much better. _Why'd Ezreal have to bring up Oliver? _

Memories had been assaulting him at the strangest moments, ever since Katarina had put him in that trance. She had to have messed with the repression mechanisms in his mind. Why else would he be remembering his roommate from Comet Division?

That was — it was in a different lifetime. Yeah, that was a good way to put it. Back when he was Michael.

Ryland rolled over with a huff and buried his face in his blanket.

_Everything was so damn cold. Freezing. Miserable and wet. Clothes clung damply, and no one could remember what the streets looked like without a slick coating of icy rain. Michael was skinny and sad, bony elbowed and knobby ankled. The others made fun of the way he blanked in the middle of conversations, or how he trembled if he had to speak more than a few sentences._

_ But Oliver dar Regale was warm. And the first person — ever — to show Michael Whitefield the slightest sign of interest, let alone affection. It was Oliver who bought the vitamin tablets and insisted he take them every day. And it was Oliver who made sure he ate regularly. _

_ And it was Oliver who had one hand wrapped around Michael's throat, pushing him into their thin standard-issue pillows, thumb heavy on Michael's pulsepoint. _

_ It was a frigid Friday evening. Their barracks room was spare, barely furnished with paltry mattresses and cheap dressers still leaking sap. Their window let in wavery orange lamp-light. Elsewhere, the other Comets were likely playing pool in the common room, sharing snacks or smuggled porn magazines. Outside in the lucid autumn night it was raining, each clear drop illuminated by streetlamps like a precious round crystal._

_ But all that mattered was Oliver. _

_ Michael secretly thought of him as a titan. His shoulders were more than wide, more than broad. They were massive. His entire body was heavily muscled, every part of him firm and strong. _

_The hot, heavy, humid breath caressing the side of Michael's neck. Oliver's other huge hand squeezing his upper thigh, teasing him and enjoying the way Michael writhed and mewled against Oliver's own strong body. His hand grazed Michael's swollen cock, his touch maddeningly light. _

_He nuzzled his ear. "You get off on me touching your scars? Because it hurts?" _

_ Michael swallowed and felt his adam's apple bob against dar Regale's palm. He shuddered as Oliver's fingers flicked the tip of his dick. "It — feels nice." _

_ He felt Oliver's smile against his cheek. "So what happens if I bite you myself? You lose your mind?" _

_ Michael couldn't answer. The hand had engulfed his cock, squeezing it. Against the chill, through his thin navy pajama pants and boxers, the heat was almost — overwhelming. It mixed with the natural pleasure. It was like summertide itself was welling inside his body. _

_ He buried his face in Oliver's stout chest, gasping when the pressure on his dick increased. And he said what he always thought when they were done. "This is so wrong." _

_ Oliver snorted. "You think this is wrong? Hold on a sec." _

_ Before Michael could react, Oliver's mouth was pressed against the skin below his jaw. The pain was light at first. Then Oliver's hand closed around his shaft as his teeth sank into Michael's marble-cold flesh. Whitefield moaned, then moaned louder when neither the squeezing nor pain let up. It swept through his entire body — pleasure and pain in one sweet surge. _

_ "Shhhh. You know you like it." He turned Michael's face to his and kissed him roughly, sliding his hand up and down his dick, pushing his tongue past Whitefield's parted lips. But the invasion was welcome because it brought sultry heat, a sense of connection. _

_ Besides, Michael couldn't've stopped him anyways_. _Oliver weighed at least one-hundred more pounds than him. One-hundred pounds of pure brawn. Like a lion. _

_The tension built inside of Michael. His chilly muscles tightened — it took a long time for even warm-bodied Oliver to drive the coldness entirely away. Both of their bodies were still coldly damp from what was laughingly termed a 'shower', a mocking rivulet of icy water in the barracks._

_ Michael shivered, stopped, then couldn't stop. Oliver's strokes gentled, but didn't stop either. He kissed Michael's cheek, which sent an entirely different sort of tingle down Whitefield's spine. _

Someone actually likes me. They think I'm a person.

_The idea was startling. Almost as startling as the fingers slowly working up and down his dick. _

"_Poor Whitefield. Here. Look at me."_

_ "I —" Michael blushed. His black hair fell over his eyes. "I don't really —" He hated this part. Or, he wanted to hate this part. _

_ "Don't want to? Too bad." Oliver forced Michael to meet his eyes. Dar Regale's were a light, pale blue, paler than the other Demacians'. One broad hand found its way to the back of Michael's neck. The other began a slow, steady rhythm on his dick. His thighs tightened involuntarily, but dar Regale simply slid his hand between them, slid across the sensitive flesh. Michael gasped._

_ And he tried to look away, but Oliver's tight grasp on the nape of his neck kept his face in place. Dar Regale watched his cheeks grow warmer, his gray-green eyes take on a faraway dreamy look. Watched Whitefield bite his lip to stifle his moans. Watched his lips part as he neared climax. _

_ Then he stopped. Whitefield's eyes widened, then fluttered closed with an even deeper blush. The only sound was the quiet rush of the evening autumntide rain. Oliver was smiling politely, waiting. _

_ "But I was so close." Michael tried to keep the pleading note from his voice and failed. _

_ "Mhm. I know." _

_He heard Oliver shift his pajama pants down and wanted to hate this part too, but didn't. He let Oliver push him towards the swollen tip of his cock. Dar Regale was enormous, but that wasn't surprising, considering he was the largest man Whitefield had ever seen then or since. _

_Michael brushed the head against his lips, then took the top part of it daintily into his mouth and let it rest there, peering up at Oliver through the fringes of his black bangs. _

"_Fucking tease," dar Regale muttered, stretching his back. _

How the hell are anyone's arms that huge? _Michael wondered dreamily. Then he felt Oliver begin to gently stroke the back of his neck. He tried to stop the purring, but couldn't. _

"_And fucking weird half-cat sorcerer bullshit. Of course." Oliver sighed heavily and shoved Michael's mouth further down on his cock. Whitefield moaned around the length. The warmth — it was inside of him now, edging towards his throat. And the huge hand on his neck felt so good. So affectionate and soft._

_His purrs were combined with small sounds of pleasure, and he was kneading Oliver's inner thighs as he sucked on him. Michael realized distantly why this sort of thing weirded dar Regale out —he didn't sound human._

_The hand flicked his chin. "Good gods, Angel. I know you love sucking dick, but shut up." _

_Whitefield slipped the cock out of his mouth and nuzzled it. "Can't." _

"_You'd better." The pressure on the back of his neck was harder this time. Michael tried to quiet himself. He could, but only barely. His own dick was getting hotter and harder the farther dar Regale slid down his throat. It felt good. So good, as Oliver's breath became more ragged. "There we go. You can be weird when you're done sucking it, alright?" _

_He tried to nod, his mouth slipping up and down dar Regale's cock. His jaw was aching, but he didn't care. Not at all. Oliver liked him. _

_He felt Oliver's lower stomach muscles ripple, heard his rough gasp, and wasn't surprised when he shoved his massive, pulsing cock all the way down his throat. Whitefield took every inch of it, reveling in the summery heat and sweetness. Dar Regale's dick was driving the cold away. And when the come flowed down his throat, Michael swallowed immediately, obediently. _

_He didn't resist when Oliver pulled him close and covered his mouth with one hand, or when he dragged his fingers across the latest round of torn flesh on Michael's chest and sent a flare of pain through him, then moved swiftly to his cock and jacked him off._

_Michael involuntarily grabbed for the hand over his lips. He struggled against Oliver at the strangest times, as if a small part of him realized what he was doing, overcame the larger part of him that was starved, emaciated, yearning for affection. But Oliver always won, of course. _

"_Shhhh." His breath caressed Michael's ear. _

_His muffled whimpers grew quieter. Oliver teased him occasionally about how quiet he got while he was coming, told him it was supposed to be the other way around, softer then louder. Even though he was silent, the orgasm exploded inside of him. His consciousness went dark for a moment, lost in thick, velvety waves of pleasure and heat, his scrawny body submerged in bliss._

_And dar Regale noticed that Michael abruptly fled when he was finished, but didn't tease him for that. Michael somehow stumbled to the bathroom to clean himself up._

_But the best part was afterwards, and this was why this particular night was Ryland's favorite memory of Oliver — though he'd prefer to never remember him again. Oliver cuddled Michael/Ryland close, running a hand from the top of his head to the small of his back. He smiled slightly when the helpless purring began again._

"_You know I like you for more than just sex, right?" _

_ Michael stared at him, taken aback. He couldn't answer. _

_ "It's nice — you're really, really good at it — but it's more than that." Oliver lifted him on top of his chest — easily, as if he were a leaf — and kissed his forehead. "I like hanging out with you. Figured I should say it, since you don't seem to get that sort of thing very often." _

In the present, Ryland looked at the ceiling and mouthed his reply. Still remembered it two and a half years later. "You know I'd do anything for you."

Then he noticed Ezreal sitting beside him on the bed, scowling at him, the wavering viewscreen light flickering against the side of his face. Ryland rolled over hurriedly to hide his erection.

_Fuck. _"How long have you been here?"

Ezreal said nothing, but his face darkened even more. The clean scent of pine — the Explorer always used too much soap, being used to sand and wilderness as he was — was almost overwhelming. He had on the gold-green plaid Ionian pajama pants Ryland had bought him. He was shirtless, and Ryland could see the tiny beads of moisture clinging to his slim bare shoulders.

His ruffled golden hair only accented how handsome he was. _No one, _Ryland thought, _should look that good with messy hair. _

The Healer took a deep breath. "Look. I don't know what happened to the link — probably Kat — so you're going to have to tell me what's wrong if you want me to fix it. Like actually say it."

Ezreal's eyes remained so fixed on the hockey game that Ryland thought, for a moment, that he hadn't heard him. Then he pulled the blankets up to his chin and muttered something.

"What?"

"I don't get it. I don't understand how you — find guys attractive. Like look at them and think they're hot. It's just a guy."

Ryland blinked. Then he noticed that the balled-up comforter was stuck firmly on top of Ezreal's lap. His cheeks were flushed, his jaw set in a stubborn line.

Ezreal had been there the entire time. Though their mental link was a little weak at the moment, Ryland's memory had come through loud and clear. And Ez hadn't wanted to disturb him. So he'd lain down quietly and let the scene unfold before him. He'd been disgusted at first, then interested, then disgusted with himself when he realized he'd gotten hard. Really hard. Like throbbing. _What the fuck? Oliver's not cute. Ew. _

But of course it wasn't Oliver. Rather, it was the way Ryland seemed to be enjoying himself entirely, the way he let Oliver tease him, how he responded with his own gentle kisses.

Not even how Ryland looked — though Ezreal supposed he had to admit that was part of it. His gray-green eyes looked — well — nice with his black hair. And he'd always sort of liked Ryland's hands. And his chest. But only because Ryland was even bonier than him. It made Ezreal look good in comparison.

Hell, Ezreal thought. Maybe it was just because he'd fought with Lux earlier. That had to be it. Yeah. That'd make anyone look more attractive than her.

Ryland opened his mouth to reply. He had no idea what he was going to say. Then a thought struck him. "Wait. Why were you looking at my memories of Oliver earlier, anyway? About the movie theater?" Then another thought. "And why'd you watch me blow him in the alleyway?"

"I didn't." Ezreal's voice was unsure.

"You had to. You said it was exactly like you and Lux. And she sucked your dick in an alley. You could've — stopped looking."

Ryland watched in disbelief as Ezreal's face turned a painful scarlet. A tiny golden spark winked off one of his eyelashes. He pulled the blanket over his head and hid beneath the pillows with a groan.

The Healer hesitated, then followed him into the dark. He heard Ezreal grumbling to himself and smiled. _Wait. I'm not supposed to think it's cute. Fuck. _

"You know you can talk to me about any —"

"I was jealous." His voice was flat.

"Oh. Um. Well, then." Ryland felt his own face redden in the dark.

"Not —" Ezreal sighed. "Not about the sex." _Wellp. Lie number one. _Ezreal shook himself. "But you liked him a lot. Actually liked him as a friend. And sometimes I feel like you're beside me out of — I dunno — obligation."

"Ez," Ryland said gently. "You don't have to be jealous. He's dead."

"Yeah, but your memories of him aren't, and — ugh." He wanted to burrow even deeper, into the mattress itself. He didn't know how to tell Ryland that he was jealous of how Oliver looked, too — huge, muscly, built. Even more ripped than Garen, Darius and Jayce combined. And that was part of why Ryland liked Oliver, was how strong he was, and Ezreal was thin, and —

He almost didn't notice the Healer's hand atop his heart, rubbing his bare skin in slow, gentle circles in the dark. Goosebumps stippled his flesh.

Ryland rested his cheek against Ezreal's forehead. Ezreal cringed, though they did stuff like that all the time. It was different for now.

"Your arrhythmia's acting up again."

"You liked him more than me," Ez growled. He flipped the blankets back so they could breathe. Ryland's dark hair was even more tousled now. "I mean — I know I shouldn't feel jealous, and I don't _really_ feel jealous —"

_Lie number two. _

The Healer's green eyes were deep with sympathy, evident even in the dim light. There was a muted cheer from the viewscreen as the Noxian Wolves scored a point against the Winter's Claw Hawks. "That's not possible. I couldn't've liked him more than you."

"No?"

"Nope."

Ezreal's eyes searched his face. "You're sure?"

And in this part of the Wheel, Ryland leaned forward, large hand still splayed over Ezreal's heart, and kissed him. A long, slow, deep kiss. When Ryland pulled away and saw that Ezreal's blue eyes were closed and his pale lips were parted, he kissed him again. And again.

Ezreal panicked and felt his heart seize. _Shit. He's gonna feel that I'm hard and —_

_ I would never tease you about it, _Ryland thought to him calmly, still kissing him. His dark hair brushed against Ezreal's forehead. One of his arms had shifted to encircle his ribs and pull him closer. Ezreal squirmed. His dick was pulsing against Ryland's thigh. _Just relax. _

Ryland thought of how they must've looked — two skinny guys with bedhead and pajama pants, skinny chests and stuttering hearts. He smiled against Ezreal's mouth and felt him shiver. The Healer's fingers stroked Ezreal's jaw, strong and sure. Ryland tasted like wine and candle smoke and — Ez didn't know. Dark chocolate? He was shaking.

_Don't fuck me. _

Ryland pulled back. His eyes sparkled with laughter in the flickering light. The smile on his face was wide and genuine.

Ezreal tried to glare at him, but was dangerously close to hyperventilating. _I'm serious. I'm not — I'm not a bottom. Or into that. Or this. Um. _He quivered harder and gulped.

_ Holy fuck, Ez. _Ryland shook his head. Neither one of them realized they weren't communicating with their voices. Their mental link was restoring itself, little by little. _Calm down. It's okay._

_ But —_

His thoughts vanished when Ryland kissed him again. He hadn't realized how soft his friend's lips were, or how warm. Or how attentive his kisses would be. Ryland moved with him, patient with his shuddery movements. It took a minute for Ez to find them rhythm. Even then, he felt Ryland having to adjust himself. He wasn't surprised when Ryland's hand squeezed the base of his jaw and held him still, making it easier to part his lips with his tongue. Ezreal's heart skipped two beats, but Ryland didn't pause, even though Ez's mouth was beginning to sting.

He thought, _Godsdamnit. A Pilt can never keep up with a Noxian. _

_It's really alright. I promise. _Ryland was trying his hardest not to crack up — he was both elated and amused. If he laughed, it'd be over. Ezreal would probably knock him unconscious. No, definitely. _You don't have to be nervous. _

_You're gonna judge me. _

All he got in response was a smiling sensation through their link. He shivered when Ryland's tongue edged deeper, past his lips. He writhed against the messy bedspread and silky sheets. And that hardness — the hot, stony hardness he'd felt with Nami — was back. His entire lower body was throbbing. His thighs, the smooth lower stretch of his belly. His cock.

_Th - th - t - t —_

And their hearts were synchronized again. Ezreal's lips parted in a helpless moan. Ryland bit his lower lip twice, just to feel Ezreal shiver. His large hands encircled Ez's ribs, holding him captive, and he moved his mouth to the side of his neck. The sound of Ezreal's rough, unstable breathing was turning Ryland on way more than it should have.

The entire thing was surreal, but that wasn't surprising. It was a difficult thing to comprehend, holding an angelic beauty wearing loose pajama pants in his arms. And watching those cupid's bow lips quiver with every movement of Ryland's tongue down his sweet skin. His hand stroked Ezreal's taut, lean stomach, right above the sensitive tip of his cock. Ezreal mewed and fought him half-heartedly, and Ryland's movements slowed and deepened.

_What the fuck is wrong with me? _Ryland wondered idly as his fingers crept towards Ezreal's dick. Ez squeaked and pulled away. His blue eyes were wide, wide and very, very dark. His chest heaved. He blinked up at Ryland through a sheaf of golden hair, eyelashes fluttering. Half alarmed, half aroused. Entirely curious. Of course.

_Gods, you're fucking beautiful. So beautiful. _Ryland fondly cupped his cheek and froze. They both heard someone trying to turn the doorknob.

"Ezreal?"

Lux.

Ryland's eyes darkened so abruptly that Ezreal flinched. It was as if someone had dropped ink in a pool of water. There was a light _click _as Ryland used his powers to lock and deadbolt the door.

_Oh, no. Fuck no, _Ryland thought as Ezreal thought, _I'm trapped. _

_ Ryland, let me go. _Ezreal made no move to get up, though he did accidentally slide his throbbing, aching cock against Ryland's stomach and gasp in frustration. _Fuck. She's gonna be so —_

_ She's gonna be mad at you regardless. _Ryland pressed his hands to his chest and kissed him. He ignored the sparks flickering across Ez's pale, bare skin wherever he touched him, a comet trail following his hands. Overflow. _She can fuck off for now. _

Ezreal stared up at his friend's stony expression, suddenly afraid. Then he squeezed his eyes shut as he heard Lux jiggle the door handle and swear under her breath. And he was totally unprepared when Ryland bit his neck, seizing his skin hard between his teeth. Ez cried out, breathless, then clapped his hand over his mouth when he heard the door handle stop moving. She'd heard him.

"Ezreal." No question in her voice now.

He felt himself panicking again. The air grew thicker as Pulsefire coalesced around them. The viewscreen flickered and died, leaving them in the dark. Then it winked on again. The Healer was unsmiling. Assessing Ezreal the way predators assessed prey.

_Ryland! What —_

He ignored him. Ezreal suddenly felt his Noxian aura sweep over him, plunging him headfirst into an intoxicating sea of pleasure. He was drowning in a powerful symphony of physical satisfaction, from the light tingling across the top of his skin, to the deep warmth uncoiling in his tense muscles, relaxing him. Even the frantic pattering of his heart began to feel good. He heard himself moaning as if from far away, his lips pressed to Ryland's collarbone.

Ryland was holding him near, and Ezreal could understand why the Healer still daydreamt of Oliver's warmth. He'd never before considered the simple pleasure of another human's body heat. He snuggled closer and didn't pull away when Ryland's fingertips brushed the delicate, burning skin of his dick. His fingertips kneaded the head of it, sending waves of eroticism down Ezreal's spine.

He heard the door handle jiggle, then rattle. But he was detached from everything entirely. Everything except for Ryland's eyes, which were the contemplative color of forested mountain lakes, and the warmth of his body as he cuddled Ezreal against him.

_Does it feel good?_

Ezreal nodded wordlessly and tilted his head back when Ryland stroked him harder. His thighs were clasped around Ryland's hand, but it didn't slow his movement in the slightest. The burning friction was almost too much to bear. Ryland smiled and kissed his jaw.

_See? Relax. I've got you. _

"You've got to be fucking _kidding _me —" The words issuing from the other side of the door didn't matter.

Ryland's mouth engulfed his. His hand rubbed Ez from the tip of his cock to the base, harder and harder until he felt the come gush out of him like a waterfall. His hands were shoving against Ryland's collarbone, but Ryland still held him tight. He could feel the climax ripple through Ezreal's body like a pond after a stone-throw. When Ez regained full consciousness, he was trembling.

Ryland's calm face was an inch from his. The Healer's — the King's? — eyes were still dark with lust. But he could hear Lux fiddling with the lock with her keycard, muttering curses.

"You alright?" _I didn't hurt you, did I? _

"D - don't tell anyone." Ez looked at him, frightened. "Please?"

"I won't." Ryland half-smiled and undid the lock on the door. Ezreal rushed to cover himself up — he could hear Lux already seething with fury.


	10. Noxian Nights (Part One)

N.B. I'm counting this and the next chapter as one chapter _(coughs loudly). _Also, I was told by people that Jinx and Vi weren't related. So they aren't in this story. Unless you're into incest, in which case they are.

**Requests Closed. **Thanks for playing!

_Table of Contents_

The Captives (Jinx/Vi/Cait) — Pagebreaks 2 - 3

The Rose Queen (Fate/Leblanc) — 3 - 4

Frustration (Talon/Ahri/Fortune) — 4 - 5

Desperation (Kog'Maw/Chocolate Cake/ Elise) — 5 - 6

It's in the Air (Ryland/Ezreal) — 6

* * *

She could feel it in the air.

It awakened her, tugging her from her strange, fever-hued dreams of motion and sex. It was something between scent and touch, a thick, heavy sensation, like the clouds in the sky before a massive storm. The feeling accompanying those regal gray heaven-towers that looked to topple at any moment, to crumble into earth-shaking torrents of rain.

She sat up, ears prickling, midnight blue sheets pooled around her thighs.

And grinned.

She slipped out of bed, noted that her body was sticky with sweat. She always slept in the nude — a holdover from her days in the wilderness as a fox, when her only blanket was earth and moss. Her tails whispered behind her, and she stretched them by grabbing and pulling the tips of them, then kneaded the firm muscles of her ass and inner thighs. She'd have to be ready.

Humming, she slipped on a tight black leather corset that pushed her breasts up, changed their softness to firmness. Men (and women) liked to squeeze firm ones, but suckle soft ones. How fortunate, she thought, that she had both forms at her disposal.

The crimson skirt and fishnets were almost an afterthought. Wouldn't do to have her genitals fully exposed the _entire _time. Just most of it.

She was outlining her eyes with dark kohl and spritzing her tails with _DiCarteri's Leave-in Silkener_ when she felt the air change. Her thighs suddenly squeezed together. She'd been wet with anticipation before, but now — now she was dripping and quivering. She looked into her sapphire-studded boudoir mirror, her nipples erect, her lips parted.

_Somebody's…frustrated. _

She waited for the sensation to pass — someone that aroused had to masturbate or otherwise come. But the smoldering ache lingered in the air like cigar smoke, insistent, pressing.

Ahri snorted, determined to ride it out. In more ways than one.

As she approached the door of the Ivory Quarters, she could hear the volume of the frantic evening unions increasing. Lust turned to desire, desire to frenzy.

She strutted into the summer night, reveling in the sensuous heat, the hushed and not so hushed moans drifting beneath the street lamps.

Speaking of street lamps — her eyes were drawn to a waif-thin woman standing beneath one and smoking a cigarette, her skinny body tense. Her hair — an interesting shade of azure — brushed the ground in two lengthy braids.

She glanced up at Ahri. Her eyes glittered.

And the two of them shared an electric moment of perfect understanding.

They were different beings (both probably inaccurately characterized). Different species, backgrounds, ages. But tonight, beneath the sultry orange half-moon, their mission was the same:

To fuck.

Ahri laughed aloud. The girl gave her an enormous grin and two thumbs up. _Yeah girl, _Ahri heard her think. _Fuck yeah._ And she vanished into the night.

When she was done laughing, Ahri herself did the same.

* * *

At first Vi couldn't open her eyes. They were too heavy, held down by an invisible, sticky weight. She thought dimly that someone had glued her eyelashes together.

There was a radio crackling with some catchy synth-pop song, along with the sound of cheerful humming. She felt almost at home — it was a little bit like her academy days in Piltover.

Then she realized she was in a peculiar position. She tried to move her arms and heard a high-pitched _clink _noise.

_What? _

She tried again and realized her wrists were chained above her head. Her knees rested on a thin terry cloth towel that only slightly cut the chill of the concrete floor.

_Uh oh. This isn't good. _

She heard a vent kick on, felt it douse her in cold air. The sweat on her body chilled, tightening her flesh. She was naked except for a pair of pink panties with a monkey on the back of them. They said _No Bananas Allowed! _in silver glitter. A present from Cait. Of course.

They were too small, so the curves of Vi's big ass hung out of them. But they were fine to sleep in.

"Hey, fat hands. You awake yet?"

_Oh shit, _Vi thought dimly.

"Ha! Saw you blink." She heard footsteps approach. Someone tweaked her right nipple. Hard. "C'monnnn. You're not fooling anyone."

Vi cautiously cracked an eye open. Her gaze was even with the rolled cuff of tan camo shorts and a ghost-pale leg. She was in some sort of — storm shelter? The walls were concrete, the lighting industrial. There was a stereo, a night stand, and a small mattress tucked in one corner with stacks and stacks of glossy porno mags towering over it.

But the person staring down at her with an unholy grin was familiar, even if her surroundings weren't.

_Oh man. I fucked up big time. _She forced false cheer into her voice. "Hey, Jinx. How's it going, buddy?"

"Pretty good now that you and Cupcake are here for the party." She laughed and turned Vi's head to the right. Cait was still passed out, heavily and obviously drugged, nude except for her black bra and thong. Her chestnut hair was damp from sweating out the meds. Her wrists, too, were chained to the wall.

"She's still gonna be out for a while," Jinx said, excited. As if Vi needed that explained. "So you and I are alllll to ourselves."

"I — I, um, see that." Vi frowned. "So. Well. It's been a while."

"Yep!" Jinx knelt in front of Vi, pressing her tiny breasts into her face. Her nimble fingers grabbed the tag in Vi's underwear and fluttered against her asscrack, then pulled them up tight, giving her camel toe. The cloth bit into her soft pink flesh. It kinda hurt.

Vi bit down hard on her lip. _Oh my fuck. Seriously? _"Little frisky, aren't we?"

Jinx giggled. "What makes you say that?"

The panties inched downwards. Vi looked into her captor's eyes and saw nothing but glee and excitement. Not sanity.

Not sure what I was expecting.

She felt the first cool breeze waft in between her thighs and began to think fast. _Struggle? No. Cuffs are pretty high quality. Wake Cait up? No point. _She squeezed her thick legs together as Jinx's fingers wormed their way to her crevice.

"Gee, Big Tits." Jinx's voice had a breathy note in it that made Vi's heart sink. A strand of her azure hair was tickling Vi's nose. "You're fatter than I remember."

"Holy shit. Thanks." She swallowed hard and forced authority into her voice. "If that's your idea of dirty talk, you can —"

"Let you go?" Jinx's grin widened as she probed Vi's lower opening with her fingers. Vi squirmed backwards. "I didn't say I didn't like squish. Or are you not paying attention?"

Her hand was positioned so that Vi had to be settled on top of it. And it wasn't like Vi could stand up.

She frowned and felt her body begin to pulse around Jinx's intrusive fingers. Jinx felt the vibration and leaned her face close enough for Vi to smell her cinnamon gum. "Someone else likes squish, too."

"What the fuck am I on? What did you do?"

Jinx smirked. "Maybe you just think I'm hot."

"Um. No." Vi laughed in disbelief, then gasped as Jinx's thumb wriggled against her clit. "N - nope."

"You sure?" The fingers slid in and out, taking up a rhythm that was surprisingly gentle.

"Yes I'm sure!" Vi snarled.

Jinx's eager, engulfing kiss pressed Vi's bare back against the chilly concrete wall. Vi almost choked — her breath was spicy and strong. And her tongue was light and playful. She was purposely being tricky, swirling it around the tip of Vi's, then slipping deep into Vi's mouth, cupping her jaw with both hands.

The chains rattled again as Vi squirmed away. Jinx bit her bottom lip hard enough to cut it. The cinnamon-tinted saliva was making it burn.

Vi glared at her. "Ow, you crazy bitch. That hurts!"

"_That _hurts?" She pulled away and laughed. "Just wait."

_That doesn't sound good. Play it cool. _Vi forced a chuckle and saw Cait stir. "What, are you Noxian now?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Her grin turned devilish. "Maybe we're all Noxian."

"Yep. You're still fucking crazy. Fantastic." Vi puffed a strand of hair out of her face. "Let me guess. Am I your sex slave?"

"Yep!" She vanished from Vi's view. She heard rustling and jiggling as she rummaged through a heap of cardboard boxes. The radio had switched to the most popular song from that Noxian opera Cupcake had mentioned earlier.

There are no monsters save for what we create...dark alchemy borne of innocent blood… What the fuck does Jayce like to listen to? Vi hesitated, then called, "I was really hoping you'd say no!"

"Too bad, big girl!" Jinx's wild laugh set Vi's teeth on edge.

Caitlyn stirred harder. "Vi?"

Vi turned to her. "Cupcake. It's alright. Just stay cool."

"Wheredafuarewe?" Caitlyn snored and abruptly fell back unconscious.

_Aw man. Where the fuck is Jayce's pouty ass when we need him? Fuckin' A. _Her discomfort increased when Jinx returned with a small box brimming with dildos and vibrators, humming to herself. They were all different colors — neon green, soft pinks and oranges, purple studded with mini diamond-like crystals.

"Say hello to my little friends." She paused and looked at Vi expectantly. "Well?"

"Uhmm." Vi remembered that Jinx had named her guns. She was being serious. "Hi…guys?"

"Duh. Of course they're guys. Now, let's see here." Suddenly businesslike, she ripped Vi's panties off abruptly, then looped cold chains around her ankles. One of the cuffs went around Cait's smooth calf, the other around the leg of a heavy nightstand.

Vi squirmed. _Great. Just great. I'm sure the fucking emissaries will love to hear this story over dinner. 'Oh, and what do you Techies do in your free time?' 'Oh, the usual, Mr. Important Demacian, sir. Get chained up in basements and fucked.'_

The result of the chaining was her being spread wide open. The inner part of her crevice was a deep, blushing peach color that was already invitingly damp. Vi tested the cuffs on her ankles by tugging on them, but only succeeded in making her inner thigh muscles sing with pain.

She noticed Jinx watching, smirking, and bared her teeth. "Yeah, real cute. Wait 'til I'm fucking —"

Cait woke up again briefly. She peered at the cuff on her calf with mild, dozy interest. "Hmmm. G'night."

"Night night!" Jinx flicked her gaze to Vi. "Any last requests?"

Vi gaped at her. "You gonna fuckin' kill me?"

In her stress, her Pilt Techie accent was slipping free. Speech training was very popular in Piltover.

"No, stupid. Though some writers do connect orgasms with death." Jinx snickered and twirled one of her braids.

"What? What the fuck are you sayin'?"

"It's an inside joke. I'm asking if you _want _anythi —"

Vi didn't bother asking to be freed. _I can deny her that satisfaction, at least. _"Can you at least change the fucking radio station?"

"Why? No _Demetrius & Caelyn_? I love opera. I'm smart now, by the way." She slipped a pair of lenseless glasses from her pocket and put them on. She looked ridiculous. "See? Smart."

Vi shook her head. "Oh my fuck."

"It's not your fuck. It's all our fuck," Jinx said primly. She thankfully changed the station, right as the actor playing Demetrius sang, _That's all he is, innocence crushed by a Wheel — trampled between the spokes, beneath broken souls — shattered by unbending steel! _

She changed it to rap.

"Better?" Jinx asked, waltzing back over with the box.

"I - I guess?" _How can anything about this be good? Or better? _

Vi didn't have time to think about it. Jinx knelt in front of her widespread pussy with a few of her 'friends,' and frowned at it in thought. She still had the glasses on. She remained kneeling so long that Vi grew uncomfortable. Well, more uncomfortable.

"Yeah. It's a vagina. You ever seen one before?"

"Shhhh. I'm thinking."

"Godsdamnit," Vi muttered. Then she blinked as Jinx pulled a yellow vibrator from the box. It was the color of a canary and as thin as a pencil. The end of it was tipped with small, dull plastic spikes.

"This is Cardinal." Jinx's smile was almost pleasant.

"Cardinals are fucking red, you dumb bitch." Vi winced as she turned it on to low, then high. The buzzing competed with the thudding bass of the rap. She cringed. "Wait. We can — we can discuss this."

"Nope!"

Vi rocked backwards as the end connected with her clit, which was already sensitive from the cold air. The sensation made all her muscles tighten, drag against the chains. It yanked Cait's leg out from under her. She snored but still didn't wake up.

"You like?"

Vi couldn't answer. Her lower parts began to drip onto the towel. The peach color deepened to a red rosy flush. She gritted her teeth, but gasped when the vibrator slid abruptly from her clit to the top of her pussy. Her vagina was constricting, pulsing. "Stop it!"

"Nope!" Jinx laughed wildly, then swirled the vibrator around in a circle, right around the trembling, peaked center of sensation. Vi squealed and was ashamed of herself. Then her thoughts disappeared and her body reacted without her consent. And the chains clinked together as every part of her tightened at once, the only part of her consciousness the thudding bass of the rap and gray static.

When she came to, she was panting, her head resting on her shoulder. Jinx was swinging from one of the metal bars on the ceiling. The light glistened over her white skin. She'd — put on lotion? No. She'd stolen Vi's lotion from her purse, lying next to her on the ground.

"What the _fuck is this_?" Vi demanded.

"A party. Geez. Law enforcement sucks at identifying stuff. Glad you're awake though." She knelt back down and fluttered her fingers over the front of Vi's damp lower lips. There were light _smack_ing sounds — Vi was flushed, thick and dripping. Against her consent.

Humming to the tune of the synth-ballad that was now playing, Jinx grabbed a long green dildo. It was soft green plastic, shaped like a normal human dick. But green.

_Why…why wouldn't you just get one that actually looked like a dick? _Vi shook her head. Her ears were ringing, her hair wet with sweat. "Let me guess. This one's named Banana?"

Jinx's eyes widened. "How'd you know?"

"I was kid — ughhh."

"No, I know." She leaned closer. Her lips and tongue brushed the inside of Vi's ear. "You've been hanging out with those psychic people. Noxians. I hate those guys."

"Didn't you just say we were all —"

The green rod probed the slick opening of Vi's vagina. "Say ahhh!"

"That's for if they need to see your tee — ahhh. Ah. Oh." She rolled her back muscles as the firm plastic slid past her tight opening into the plushy red canal inside of her, lubed only by her own fluid. It pressured the mouth of her vagina with how thick it was. Jinx pulled it all the way out and examined it.

"You're awfully —"

"Shut the fuck up," Vi muttered.

"Fine." She rammed the stick deep into Vi and left it there. Vi squeezed her eyes shut. Her body wanted it, she could tell. She was writhing, squirming around it. And part of her, she noticed, didn't care that she was stuck in a basement.

_Somethin' weird going on. I just fucked Jayce and Cait not too long ago — shouldn't be this turned on._

Her thoughts were again cut short, this time by Caitlyn waking up entirely. The cup of her black bra slid down, revealing a round right breast. The beads of sweat around the pale pink aureole twinkled.

"Vi. What happened?"

"Oh, you know," Vi said cheerfully. "Huge green dildo stuck in my pussy, chained to a wall. The usual."

Cait frowned slightly, trying to process this information with a sluggish brain. Vi traced the taut curve of her butt and hips with her eyes. Her own body gripped at the dildo tighter, and a bead of moisture trickled between her pillowy breasts.

"Hey there," Jinx cooed. Vi watched uneasily as she selected a short, chunky purple vibrator from the box. Then pulled out a ball-gag. "Your squealing's way more annoying than fatso's."

"Real women like real women," Vi snapped.

"I told you already. I loveeee me some squish. And I bet Cait'll love Mr. Jiggles, too." Jinx smiled so widely her cheeks dimpled.

_Mr. Jiggles. _Vi closed her eyes. _Holy — _

"Wh — hey! Wait! I didn't sfgihfgdf." Cait's eyes widened indignantly as Jinx rammed the ball gag between her lips.

"Shhh. No one gives a shit." Jinx smiled and wedged the little purple stick between her thighs. It began to buzz, and Cait's eyes went soft and dreamy. The tip of her little pink tongue stuck out from beneath the black plastic ball.

Speaking of little and pink — as Jinx pried Caitlyn's legs apart, only the slightest hint of cherry blossom could be seen between her tight thin outer lips. But the delicate nature of her inner parts made Vi hotter and wetter. She wanted to nibble that little pink place, hear Cait's breathy moans.

"Hell yeah. Go for it." Jinx grabbed the back of Vi's neck and stuffed her face between Cait's thighs. The chains pulled at her wrists, straining a muscle in her back. Or seven. The vibrator was jiggling her breasts now.

_Don't think that's Mr. Jiggles was intended for…_

But Cait — whatever was in the air had her _good_. She moaned deep in her chest as Vi's tongue edged towards that small pink softness, then gasped with pleasure when the two connected. The sensation was electric. Warmth unfurled in her legs and belly, set her thighs on fire.

As for Vi, she'd given up on understanding what was happening and given in. Cait tasted good. Like some sort of sweet tropical fruit, all softness and dampness. The wetter Cait got, the harder Vi licked until the space between Vi's lips and Cait's thighs was a slick, dripping mess.

_Wait, _a very far away part of Vi whispered. _How did Jinx know what I was thinking? I mean, it wasn't that hard to guess, but —_

Jinx snickered and smacked Vi's jiggly ass, startling her. Her tongue darted inside Cait, who came loudly, her moans rising above the music even with the gag. "It's in the air. Can't you feel it?"

_What is? What's in the air? _Vi wondered. But she forgot again. Jinx had gotten a belt. It fell onto Vi's ass with a sharp _crack_. She moaned as her ass began to turn cherry red.

* * *

Twisted Fate reclined on LeBlanc's black silk pillows and clutched one to his bare chest.

LeBlanc often told him he looked like a coyote. He didn't know whether or not to take it as a compliment, but he could see it — the dark hair clinging to his lean jaw, his scraggly build. The unsettling golden eyes that peered out from beneath his unkempt black hair.

He crossed his blue-jeaned legs and hoped the Lady of the Black Roses (as he called her) wouldn't be mad at him for not taking them off. There was a painting in progress by the bed, a portrait of Fate himself, done in dark, stormy colors. Reminded him a bit of the air outside, actually. Thick and dark with tension.

But Fate forgot about it all as LeBlanc strolled out of the bathroom.

He wolf-whistled and she grinned. She was in an air-thin shift the color of wine, of blood. Beneath it, an ink-black bra and lacy thong accented her high, firm breasts and butt. Her ass was a little on the tiny side, but Fate wasn't complaining. Nope.

Especially not when a second LeBlanc appeared behind the first, wearing the same outfit in reverse. Black gown, red underwear. The red, the black — it all reminded him a little of a deck of cards. She was the Queen. It might have been intentional. She was tricky like that.

Moonlight shone in from the open window behind the two women, limning them in silver as airy and diffuse as the mesh against their pale skin.

He'd be the first to admit he couldn't tell the clone from the real one. Especially not when his dick was hotter than a sunset over Shurimana, as hard as solid stone.

Their gowns both rustled, fanning behind them as they glided towards him. Cool rivers of dark hair — fresh and damp from the shower — rippled over their shoulders.

"Well?" one of them asked, a devious smile curving her crimson lips. The other put a hand on her hip and smirked. "What do you think?"

Fate had to clear his throat. "I think you're godsdamned beautiful. That's what I think, and it's all I can say, too. No blood in left in m'brain."

Laughter — smoky, sultry — wrapped silk ribbons around him. Then the pair of them slid into bed with him, the sheets and veils rustling like the leaves outside. They whispered across his skin, their hair trailing across it, their legs light and warm against his own. Their delicate fingers traced the curve of his lips, his throat.

He kissed one of the women, plunging his fingers deep into her satin hair, then kissed the other. He still couldn't tell the difference — both of their mouths tasted dark and rich, and both pairs of lips moved in time with his own.

He opened his eyes to see them crouched over him. The throats of their gowns were loose — he saw the smooth, moon-pale flesh of the tops of their breasts, their eyes glittering with desire. One of them settled on top of his stomach, legs spread. He felt the other begin to rub his cock through the rough cloth of his pants.

No matter how many times he'd done it — no matter how many different women — the lust unspooling in him like a thousand silken threads was satisfying. It didn't even have to be the climax. Just thirsting for someone, feeling alive…it was enough.

He'd told Malcolm that once and gotten the most bizarre look of his life. "Always knew you were a faggot, Fate. Get your ass away from me."

_ "Oh, hush. Y'wouldn't understand."_

_ "I understand you're a fuckin' weirdo." _

Memories didn't matter, though. The red mesh shifted before his eyes like a desert mirage. LeBlanc slowly slipped out of it, in perfect synch with her double, a sensuous ballet. Fate's jeans inched downward as LeBlanc tossed the gown aside. It caught the moonlight for a brief moment, then rippled to the ground.

Her night-black bra neared his lips as dexterous fingers pulled his dick free of its restraints. She tugged it away. Then LeBlanc's breasts swayed before his face to a mystical rhythm as a gentle hand began to caress the underside of his cock. It was almost to silky for him to bear — the light of the moon, the hushed evening wind, the firm white flesh pressed to his lips.

He sketched a circle around one of her dark, pert nipples with his tongue. Against the white, it reminded him of a blackberry floating in fresh cream. Luscious.

LeBlanc — her double? — ridded him of his pants entirely. He was bare, naked in the humid air that clung to his sweat-tinted skin. The sensitive spot around his cock and balls turned to gooseflesh. As LeBlanc lowered her dark lips to his, her double lapped at the very tip of his cock, the sweet spot where tingling and deep pleasure kissed. Her mouths on both parts of his body were light as evening mist, but the feel of her womanhood against his belly was thicker, like fog.

As her kisses deepened and Fate's hands clasped around the back of her neck, he felt her nether regions dampen through her lacy thong, then quiver against his lean muscles. He reached for her, but was distracted by the flesh suddenly enveloping his dick. She sucked him all the way into her mouth.

He was edging down her throat — all Noxian women (hell, all Noxians in general) knew how to give head. He gasped roughly when her lips met the skin of his balls. And when he went to moan she was there, too, stopping the sound with her mouth. The trembling heat atop his abs got hotter.

He fumbled for her thong and heard both of them giggle.

_She's havin' fun. _Fate's thighs constricted. He clenched his jaw against another moan. _She likes suckin' me off. Naughty bitch. _

His rough fingers finally peeled the black away. Her back arched as he jammed a finger inside the pulsing pink. "Y'like it rough, don't you?"

She cracked an eye open, grinning. "You've got no clue."

He tried to cram another finger in, but she was skinny, too petite. He scrubbed at her slick opening, but lost the rhythm as she deep-throated him. His hand fell away weakly, then grabbed for the black silk sheets. His breath was harsh and ragged.

"Do you think you're on top?" She murmured to him with a wink.

"H - hell no. I don't need that — that macho bullshit."

"Good."

He felt four hands grasp his arms and thighs and rearrange him so he was on his knees. _Godsdamn, m'belly's on fire. _He winced when LeBlanc brushed him too hard. _I know I should be turned on, but — this is nuts. _

"It's in the air," they both whispered. The charming smile was a little unsettling. A perfect reflection.

_Figured somethin' weird was goin' on. _

But he didn't have the willpower to investigate. "Alright, sure." He paused. "So? Y'all ain't — I draw the line at assfuckin'."

A deeper cascade of dark laughter. "Don't worry."

Before he could blink, they were lying beneath him. One grinning with her hands gripping the headboard, the other smiling and pointing towards the foot of the bed.

Like a godsdamned playing card.

_Fucking Noxians. _Fate snorted. "Real cute."

"Mmm. You think so?" One of them yanked his steel-hard cock and shoved him deep inside her vagina, then cinched her smooth, pretty legs tightly around his waist. Before he could gasp, the other seized his hair and pushed his face towards her sweet spot.

"Eat up, cowboy." They laughed. Fate tried to draw away, but LeBlanc was insistent. He hesitantly licked at her. Her juices were sweet. Black cherry — that's what it reminded him of.

Then LeBlanc's stomach muscles rippled, forcing him deeper inside of her. He gasped against her pussy, then squirmed as she held him there. He couldn't move. Everything was warm wet silk.

The come spurted out of him without warning — he'd been so hard the whole time that there was no transition. She moaned in stereo — black cherry ran down his lips and dick, flowed onto the sheets and dampened them.

He collapsed. His ears were ringing, his entire body tingling. And he was still panting.

He didn't even notice the pair of them sit up, wink at one another, and vanish into ethereal black smoke.

But a few minutes later he did notice that the bed was empty as his balls. He struggled to right himself, shuddering when his stomach and thighs cramped. His cock was still aching.

"What the hell did she mean _it's in the air_?" He looked out the window, but the orange half-moon had no answers.

* * *

_Ka-chunk. _

_Ugh. Where the fuck is Kat? _Talon scowled, then flipped another throwing knife from the tips of his fingers in one smooth motion. It struck Ryland squarely in the eye.

_Ka-chunk. _

The poster of Ezreal and Ryland was punctuated with tiny holes from blades. Talon couldn't stand either of them — everyone knew Katarina du Couteau was supposed to be his, not Ryland's. When Kat and Geek Boy first started going out, Talon waited patiently for her to break the loser's heart. There was no way the softspoken, nerdy, gangly guy could keep Kat's attention.

But here they were six months later, and Kat was still in love. No, LOVE. In all-caps.

Talon dusted his hands against his black shirt. _Fuck this. I'm going outside. _

For some reason, the idea was more than simply appealing. It was compelling. He walked past a quietly-brooding Darius in the Noxian Quarters' lobby, out into the night. And stopped.

_What the shit? _

The sounds of people and almost-people fucking drifted above the sound of low, grumbling thunder. Talon flinched as his dick abruptly hardened for no reason. He let it squeeze against the crotch of his pants for a second, then tucked it into his waistband. And paused.

_Oh. Oh, great. Now I gotta go back inside and jack off. Just great. _He grunted, already beginning to imagine a luscious recreation of Katarina. Not the Kat Ryland saw. Ryland was a little bitch.

But Kat as she was meant to be — tied up with a huge red dildo in each hole, gagged and chained.

_I'm never gonna have her again, am I? _He heaved a sigh and felt his dick pulse. _Ah well. Kitty Kat, this one's for you. _

He turned to go and paused again.

"Hey there, handsome." The voice — a throaty purr — came from his left. He whirled and got an eye-full of big, fat, round titties. The rest of her body seemed to fade into view, coalesce from the silver, foggy night. White tails, long legs, and a brief scarlet skirt just asking to be balled up and tossed aside.

Talon looked at her creamy fish-netted thighs and started to sweat. "H — hey, Ahri. How's it going?"

"Not too bad." She squared her shoulders, pushing her boobs harder against the black leather restraining them. The skin glimmered in the moonlight. Talon couldn't look away. Not that he wanted to. "You seem lonely."

"It's Kat again," he heard himself saying. "Can't get her out of my mind."

"Pffft. Please." Ahri leaned forward. Talon swallowed hard. The luminous globes seemed to be on a collision course with his face. "I've got another redhead who could use some love."

"Really? I mean, uh —" He coughed. He'd sounded far too eager. "That'd be kinda cool. Since, you know, everyone's hooking up tonight."

"Mhm." She took him softly by the wrist. For a split second he could hear her thoughts. _…scrawny boy, but he'll do nicely. _

_Nicely for what? _He wondered, then decided he didn't care.

Ahri led him through the evening, hips sashaying from side-to-side, tails swishing like banners. They passed Leona and Panth groping one another against a lemitin oak, then Jarvan and Shyvana embracing.

"Geez," Talon muttered. "Reminds me of being back home on a full moon."

Ahri's golden eyes cut to him. Her smile, while pleasant, was unreadable. "Rather Noxian feeling in the air tonight, yes. Wonder what's causing it." It wasn't a question.

Talon frowned. "You know what it is, don't you?"

Her fingers tickled his chin. "I've got a good guess. Seems a certain monarch-to-be is not…pleased."

"Jarvan looked pretty happy," Talon commented absently. How was anyone's ass that taut? Her butt cheeks were so obviously firm beneath her ruby skirt. He wanted to grab them, smack them. And he wasn't a furry, but those tails were _hot_.

Ahri smirked and pulled Talon inside the Ivory Quarters.

The place was a mess. There were people openly fucking on the couches, the ground strewn with various bright articles of clothing. Talon was so entranced by Ahri's curvaceous silhouette that he almost slipped on a saffron bra and neon-blue thong.

Ahri looked around her, examining the bare breasts and asses of all colors, shapes and sizes around her. The lights were dimmed, candle smoke filling the air. A hot, slow, sexy orgy. Whatever was in the air, it'd gotten more potent.

"Can't believe I finally get a chance to fuck Ahri," Talon muttered to himself, and scratched his head. "It's — an honor, I think."

_You keep thinking that, little boy, _Ahri thought. She opted to say nothing and led him to Sarah Fortune's den of iniquity. Or, as the commoners put it, her bedroom.

Talon almost choked on cigarette smoke. The red blankets were a mess, the curtains flung open, the rug littered with ash. Two pairs of cheap pink fuzzy handcuffs dangled from the bed posts, and faded posters of highly-technical boat diagrams patterned the walls.

In the midst of this mess lay Sarah Fortune, naked except for her tall red high heels. Her hair was her pillow, thick and sweaty, glimmering mutedly in the haze. She was smoking some cheap blue cigarillo Talon'd seen once during his days on the streets.

When he and Ahri passed through the clinking blue bead curtain, Fortune lifted her head and grinned lazily. "Oooh. You brought me a good one."

She sat up. Talon watched, mesmerized, as her breasts moved. They jiggled. They weren't the firmest things in the world, but their softness and squishiness was equally arousing. She'd obviously seen some shit. Had experience.

Talon bit his lip when Ahri's muscular tails trailed up his thighs. The tips tweaked the tip of his dick. He shifted his weight.

Miss Fortune patted the space on the bed beside her and blew out a ring of smoke. "Care for a seat?"

"Um. Yeah. Totally." Talon's face flushed. _Shit. They're gonna think I'm a dweeb like Ryland. _He tried to be casual, but he was shaking.

Neither Fortune nor Ahri had Kat's sleek beauty, but Fortune's raw, rugged appeal still made him hard. When Ahri began pulling his shirt off, he didn't resist. Nor did he when Sarah took his pants, leaving the cigarillo perched in one corner of her lips.

Completely forgetting his critique of Ryland earlier, he let his eyes flutter shut as they stuck both of his wrists into the fuzzy cuffs and snapped them shut. Ahri rolled on top of him with a grin.

He waited, shivering, for her to press her mouth to his boxers. But she was more interested in Sarah.

"You look _ravishing."_

"Oh, stop." Sarah grinned and extinguished the smoke in an ashtray. "You always say that."

"Come here."

"Again? But what about —"

"Don't worry about him." Ahri leaned over Talon, pressing sideboob to his face. He squirmed a little. _How does loser-face do this with Kat? My fucking wrists already hurt._ He watched Ahri cup Sarah's chin and kiss her. Their tits pressed together as Sarah pulled her closer, the tips of their tongues swirling around one another.

The sound of their skin brushing over each other made Talon twitch. The head of his dick was visible through his underwear. As Sarah pulled one of Ahri's rounded breasts free and began to massage the nipple of it, he cleared his throat.

"Um. Ladies? Madams?"

"We need to shut him up," Sarah whispered. Ahri nodded, vanished, and returned with a sock. She forced his jaws apart and shoved it down his mouth.

"Shhh. I'm busy."

"Msdfgdfg," Talon muttered, then moaned as they resumed making out on top of him, rugged black hair falling into his eyes. Their tits were bouncing lightly against his bony chest, smooshed together, nipples hardening against one another inches from his lips. Ahri's tongue was deep in Sarah's throat, her delicate fingers wound in Fortune's fox-red hair. Her tails wavered in the air. He gasped when one of their hands touched his dick.

But they moved it away.

_What the fuck? _He struggled against the fuzz-cuffs. Ahri flicked his nose.

"Don't move. I said I'm busy."

"Mfgadfgdf," Talon said through the sock, louder. He was starting to shake. Not only were his muscles tense and quaking — his dick was _throbbing. _Pounding. He whimpered when Ahri spread her legs on top of him, wedging his cock lengthwise between her asscheeks, and Sarah buried her face beneath the scarlet shirt and began to lick. He could feel her crack through her tight leather skirt. They were using him as a mattress. Ignoring him.

He gasped and choked on sock when Ahri folded her legs around Sarah's neck, squeezing his dick even harder between the smooth musles. Fortune's tongue flicked the inner pink arch, then slid deep inside Ahri's wet crevice. Talon bucked beneath Ahri, pushing her closer to Sarah. She came, loudly moaning.

Talon felt her wetness drip onto his own thighs, soak through the boxers. His cock seemed to strain towards it on its own. He was moaning too, but from frustration. They were still ignoring his dick. Not playfully, either. Just — ignoring it.

_I've got a problem here. _He began to spit curse words, but Sarah and Ahri's noisy union drowned him out. Fortune was almost screaming — her ass was pointed towards Talon's face, so he got a full view of Ahri's tongue penetrating her lower lips. She teased them apart with her fingers. Fortune looked over her shoulder at Ahri, red bangs falling into her eyes, luscious lips parted in a moan. Her eyes squeezed shut as Ahri's tongue dove deeper. When her thighs slapped together — a slapping sound of flesh and wetness — Ahri's lithe tails wrapped around them and pried them open, leaving her fully exposed.

Her back arched. Her muscles tensed. And the tip of Ahri's tongue didn't let up. Sarah cried out as Ahri stopped licking and began to suck at her, tongue swirling back and forth over her clit. The space between her legs was just as red as the heels on her feet. Those thick thighs began to shake, to jiggle right before Talon's face.

Talon could see all of it and have none of it. He legitimately began to wonder if he was going to die.

"Someone needs spanked," Ahri whispered.

_ It's me, _Talon thought. _It's definitely me. _But of course it wasn't him. Ahri settled on his lower legs — infuriatingly right below his balls — and pulled Sarah onto her lap. A red high heel rested on either side of Talon's face. He had a lovely view of Fortune's rounded ass.

He watched Ahri lightly stroke the space below Sarah's asscheeks, then seize her ankles with her tails and spread her wide apart. And Talon watched as Ahri sank a huge red dildo — kinda like the one he'd thought of earlier — into Fortune's juicy pink sweet spot. He watched her slide it in and out, and wetness seeped between Fortune's thighs. She spread them wider, the slick spot hovering over Talon's lower belly.

_Where the shit did that dildo come from? _He wondered wildly. Then he flinched as Ahri slapped first one cheek, then the other. He moaned along with Sarah. The jiggling reverberated through him, the flesh waving before his eyes. The urge to stick his dick in them — either of them, any orifice — was burning. Scalding. He writhed and gasped.

When both of them had come — Ahri for a second time — they collapsed on either side of him, exhausted. Talon couldn't see straight. Sweat leaked into his eyes, dripping from his temples. The little bit of his dick he could see through his boxers was an inflamed, tender red.

Ahri cracked her back. "That was fun. Want to go get a drink?"

_They're going to fucking leave me, _Talon realized, and panicked. _Wait!_ He tried to say. "Mfgdfg!"

"Sure. Let me put some clothes on. I don't think the air's quite strong enough to walk around naked. Not yet, at least."

He watched in disbelief as Sarah pulled on a green sundress, then wrapped an arm around Ahri's waist and escorted her out. She locked the door behind her and he almost screamed. He didn't know that his sexual frustration was combining with what was in the air, thickening it, raising it to greater potency.

_It's in the air. _

* * *

Kog'Maw sat under a park bench outside the Ivory Quarters, panting. Everyone was being weird — so weird that Soraka had forgotten to put out his forty pounds of food this evening. She was rushing to and fro, healing sprained arms and sore thighs. He watched her pause before him — the orgy was apparently injuring quite a few, requiring her attention every ten minutes — and saw her hands creep to her lower parts. Then she paused, shook herself and hurried away, the hem of her dark blue gown almost catching around her hooves.

Kog was hungry, but that was nothing new. He peeked out when he saw a young man in a nice suit knock on the door to the Ivory Quarters, then adjust his tie with a nervous gulp. An enormous cake was balanced on his left hand. A naked Summoner peered out at him, clutching a glittery green bra to their breasts.

"The fuck do you want?" A Piltover Techie.

"Good evening, madam." A Noxian. "I respectfully request entry to the orgy currently taking place within this demesne."

"Whadafuh?" The Techie squinted. "Is that a fucking cake? Why the fuck do you have cake?"

"In my country, it is traditional to arrive at an orgy bearing gifts," the man said haughtily.

"Man, fuck cake. Get y'ass over here."

The last Kog'Maw saw of the young man was him being yanked inside by his tie into the dusky interior. The cake fell to the ground with a wet _splat. _

_So…hungry…_ Kog'Maw slipped out from his hiding spot and licked the chocolate icing. There were white letters — cracked, now, a fissure between them — reading _Sex_.

It tasted like sex. And heaven. The sweet chocolate-sugariness exploded on Kog'Maw's tongue, filling all of his senses with delight. His paws and little legs were soon engulfed in its richness. It was fresh from the ovens, a delightful warmth against his moist skin, soft and squishy and delightful. He tried to savor it — a trick he learned from Soraka that made food all the more delightful — but began chowing down on it. Half of it vanished in an instant.

He didn't see Elise slip out of the Ivory Quarters' window, shaking her head and muttering to herself. " —godsdamned Noxians'll fuck everything but a fucking spider. _That's _where they draw the line. Not the demons. Not the vampires. Spiders." She spotted Kog'Maw kneading and eating the cake and paused.

_I probably shouldn't do this. But I'm so horny. _

She paused again.

_Fuck it. Literally. _She edged towards him. "Hey, doggy."

Kog'Maw ignored her, still swallowing massive chunks of the cake whole. With a deep sigh of resignation, Elise scooped up a chunk of chocolate cake and rubbed it on her pulsing slit. She almost came just from the contact of cake alone. The warmth, the gooiness — it was almost too much.

When Kog'Maw finished bolting down the remainder of the well-intentioned man's dessert, he snuffled the air. Elise watched nervously as he turned to her, eyes bright and curious.

_It's not that bad. It's not like I'm a human. _"Come here, you cute little — thing, you."

Kog'Maw panted and gamely trotted over. Elise shivered, then shivered harder as Kog'Maw's long tongue lapped the inner edges of her thighs. She spread her legs. Some of the cake was dripping off her because she was so damp.

She gasped when his rough tongue slid against her pulsing clit, then lowered herself on to it.

Zandred Claren of Zaun was pacing over the entire Institute. If he had hair, he would've pulled it out. "Respect their customs," he was chanting. "Respect their customs, respect their —"

He saw Kog'Maw's tongue inside Elise's vagina and promptly fainted.

* * *

And what, precisely, was in the air?

King Ryland's frustration.

He gritted his teeth as he listened to Luxanna rattle the door handle, a high, jarring sound. He had undone the lock, but quickly turned it back, remembering that Ezreal's pants were spotted with come.

"Go. Change, quick."

Ez Arcane Shifted away, stumbling over the entry to the bathroom. His hands slapped against the tile before he regained his balance. The fusillade of golden sparks was almost as bright as the panic in his blue eyes.

Ryland gritted his teeth, waited for his heart to stop fluttering in his chest. Besides his dick, his temples and pulse points were also throbbing.

Lux rattled the lock again. "What the _fuck_?"

"Just a minute." Ryland put his bare back against the door. "Just give him a minute."

"What do you mean _just a minute_?" She snapped.

Ryland chuckled and ran his fingers through his black hair. "They have minutes in Demacia, don't they?"

"Very funny." He heard her mutter something about _Noxus _and_ bastards _and couldn't keep the grin off his face. It wasn't a smile he was familiar with — it was wide and dark. And smoldering with anger.

_What he wanted to do — he wanted to drag Lux inside and tie her to the rickety red chair by the counter with belts, with the fancy Noxian knots Kat had taught him. The _Gordias _and _Toronado. _Gag her with — masking tape. Yeah. Tape her mouth shut._ _And when Ezreal came back out of the bathroom, Ryland wanted to grab him and force his cock down his throat, past those handsome lips, and hold him there on top of his dick while he choked and struggled. And when he finally submitted, Ryland would use his mouth, its pink, sweet softness, drag his dick along the top of his tongue. Hold Ez tightly by the jaw while the boy's hands pawed at nothing and gradually stilled. Make Lux watch Ez's pretty blue eyes flutter shut, then pull and out and empty himself all over those perfect silk bow lips. Then grin at her, laugh and say, _There. Happy now? Your nightmares are true.

_Then rip her throat out with his bare teeth. _

"Whoa. Dude." Ezreal stood before him — blue pajama pants now — fists clenched. His eyes seemed to take up most of his face. "Relax."

"R - right. I'm a healer." Ryland frowned and hid his erection in the waistband of his black pants. Ezreal's eyes tracked the movement and somehow got even wider. _Holy shit, _Ryland heard him think. "Um. What?"

"I - nothing." Ez's left eye twitched. "You should put a shirt on."

"Good idea." He pulled on a soft gray v-neck as Ez undid the door. He glanced at the score — the Noxian Wolves were winning the hockey game by twenty points. _Get wrecked._

Lux was standing as still as a star. The only things that moved were her light blue eyes. They darted from side to side, between them.

"Hey, Lux." Ryland half-smiled and saw her edge away. Amused, he neared her. _I'm two feet taller than her. Why was I ever afraid? _He knew why. She reminded him a lot of Merilyn.

She tripped back a step and scowled. "Why was the door locked?"

Ezreal gulped and said nothing. His eyelashes fluttered.

Ryland shrugged. "It's getting wild out there and I didn't want to deal with it. Not Ezreal's fault."

"Oh, I figured it wasn't Ez's fault." Lux huffed.

"Oh?" Ryland realized that he was tired of her. Very, very tired. Ezreal's nervous eyes darted to him, and he ignored them. "And why's that?"

She ignored him, leaned towards Ezreal and sniffed. "Why do you smell like pine? Did you two — " _shower together? _

_No, _Ryland reflected. _But that's a fantastic idea. _

Ez still couldn't answer. He just shivered in the moonlight, arms crossed, bare chested, blinking at her with doelike eyes.

Lux recoiled when Ryland's hand settled on her shoulder. "Look. As much as I'd love to stand here and listen to you interrogate Ez —"

She glared at him. "I'll stand here if I want to stand —"

"Lux, I'll talk to you tomorrow." Ezreal yawned loudly. A little too loudly. "I'm so tired. I already bought my tie and corsage."

"But — how do you know which dress I'm picking?"

_Oh, man. _Ryland winced. _That hideous tie is something else that can wait until tomorrow. _"Good night, Luxanna."

"But —"

"Night, Lux," Ez said cheerfully. "Love you."

"I —" Lux paused and sighed, and Ryland almost felt bad for her. Almost. "I love you too. Oh, and Ryland?"

"Mhm?" _Just gooooo. Please. My fucking cock feels like it's about to explode._

"Kat says she's sorry." She whirled on her heel and left. They watched her go, her golden hair shining under the myth-tree's lanterns.

Ryland sighed and relocked the door. He laid down on the bed, pulling the blankets to his chest, while Ez dug through his icebox. His nervousness was evident.

"Can I have the last cola? Soda? Whatever the hell Noxians call it?"

_I get them for you. _

_Do you really? _Ryland felt Ezreal blush. _You don't have to do that. _

_No worries. No caffeine for the healers. _

Ez slid in bed beside him, glanced at him, and chugged it. Ryland tried not to watch, but traced the movement of his bobbing adam's apple anyways.

Ez wiped his lips with a sigh, and said, "I'm supposed to suck your dick now, right?" at the exact instant Ryland said abruptly, "I'm so fucking horny."

Silence, punctuated by low moans outside and the hockey game. Two of the players were smashing each other's faces in.

Ryland cleared his throat. His brow furrowed. "Do you — uh — want…to?"

Ezreal leaned back and crossed his legs. Looking off into the distance, he said, "I bet I'm better at it than Oliver."

"Uh." _Well, I was on bottom one-hundred percent of the time, so I wouldn't — _

"Hold me." Ez snuggled up to his chest, and Ryland put his arms around him. The Explorer's chin was on his collarbone, and Ryland tried not to flinch when Ez's hand slid down his stomach. He gasped when he squeezed the tip of his cock, then spanned his hand over his whole dick. "Wow, you're so fucking huge." A pause. "That sounded really gay."

Ryland squinted at him. "Um, Ez?"

"Shhhh." Ezreal rolled on top of him and kissed him. He pulled away. His blue eyes were shining. "Only words now."

_Ummm. _Ryland shook his head and kissed him back. Elation — bliss — flooded him. It wasn't a one-time miracle. It was happening again. _I don't think you said that right. _

_Lux says I'm really bad at dirty talk. _Ezreal nuzzled his chin and kissed him again. His fingertips were curled around the back of Ryland's neck, his thumbs on that eternally-tense muscle between neck and shoulder. His chest radiated heat through the Healer's pajama shirt, like he was a miniature sun of some sort.

_It's — it's alright. _Ryland kissed him back, setting a slow, dreamy, leisurely pace Ez could keep up with. _Gods. Why are you so cute? _

_It's in my blood. _

_I guess. _Ryland stretched out. He always forgot how tiny Ez was compared to him. Had to stand on his tiptoes to lean on Ryland's shoulder. And Ryland's hands could almost encircle Ezreal's waist entirely. He wasn't as thin as Aven, but —

_So how do you do it, anyways? _

Ryland cracked an eye open. He looked at Ezreal's long eyelashes. _Suck a dick? _

_No. I'm pretty sure I can figure that part out. _Ezreal smiled against his mouth. _The dirty talk. _

_I can teach you sometime. _Ryland squeezed the nape of his neck.

_Like now? _

_You want me to — _Ryland snorted. Far away, he sensed that Lux was leaning against the outside wall, listening for anymore moans. Kat was leaning beside her, covered in bruises and scowling. _You're actually a closet freak. _

_Maybe. _Ezreal took Ryland's bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard. Or what he thought was biting down hard. It barely tickled.

Ryland had to fight down laughter again. _So damn cute. _He smoothed Ez's hair. _So why do you wanna suck my cock anyways? Because you want me in your mouth? Or are you just a fucking slut? _

Ezreal shivered and kissed him harder. His blonde hair tickled Ryland's forehead. Ryland felt Ez's dick stiffening against his own.

_Oh, _he thought to himself distantly. _He really is into it. _

He held Ezreal tightly against him and breathed in his ear. "You want my huge, rock-hard dick in your throat?"

"Yes." It was a whisper. Ezreal nipped his jaw, then pushed the hem of Ryland's shirt upwards and kissed the top of his stomach. Then downward. Ryland kept a hand on the back of his neck, massaging it. With the other, he slipped his pants below his balls. His entire body went tingly when the skin of it brushed Ezreal's chest. The Explorer tucked his chin against it, squeezed his eyes shut, then licked it.

_Don't laugh, _Ryland thought to himself. To Ezreal, he thought, _Open your mouth. _

In the moonlight, those blue eyes gleamed up at him, like the silvery waves on an ocean. _But —_

He increased the pressure on Ez's neck slightly. _Do it. _

He felt Ezreal comply, then inched his cock between his lips. He fought the primal urge to ram himself down his throat entirely. He couldn't stop his breath from being harsh, though, or the stuttering of his heart as he and Ez's pulses linked up again. Ez's tongue lapped hesitantly at the underside of his erection, then more boldly against the bottom of his head. When Ryland stroked his cheek, he sucked harder.

Ryland's back arched, and his other hand squeezed at the bedspread. He heard Ezreal moan and had to bite his own lip. His hand shifted from the back of the Explorer's neck, from beneath his soft hair, to the side of his jaw.

_Take more of it. _

_I don't know if I —_

Ryland hooked two fingers between his lips and spread them farther apart. He shoved more of his cock inside, felt the softness overwhelm it, press against it. His skin prickled when he felt his head make contact with the plushy flesh at the opening of Ez's throat. He felt him choke and withdrew a little, grinning.

_Don't hurt yourself. _

_I can take — _

_Shhhh. Just suck on it. _

Ez's hands settled on the inner curves of his thighs, beside his balls. He squeezed the muscles there involuntarily, gagging a little. _Why are you so huge? I thought those jokes about Noxus were myths. _

_Nope. You can handle more now._ Ryland forced Ez's head down, squeezed his thickness deep inside. He saw Ezreal's perfect mouth wrapped around the lower half of his shaft and panted, watching him suck from beneath the fringes of his black hair. _Relax. Let me fuck you._

Ezreal's deep moan vibrated the length of his dick. He moaned again as Ryland entered him fully, then whimpered softly. His tongue swished in an inexorable pendulum motion, back and forth on the underside of the shaft. The pointed tip of it brushed a tiny spot against his balls. His back arched, and Ezreal moaned again. He should've been choking but - he wasn't. His mouth was full, his jaw aching, his throat pulsing, but it felt good.

_ I know you can suck me harder, fucktoy. _Ryland squeezed his jaw. _So do it. _

Ez complied. He peered up at Ryland, then closed his eyes in pleasure when Ryland rubbed his throat. Feeling the swelling, throbbing cock inside him and the gentle fingers on the other side of the boundary was — comforting, somehow. Soothing. And Ryland so much bigger than him. And so nice to him. So gentle, even when his thigh-muscles were as tight as stone, his breaths harsh.

Ezreal didn't notice he'd begun to purr. Ryland's breaths deepened. The swirl of Ezreal's thoughts was a sweet counterpoint to the warm pleasure of his mouth. Between Ryland's legs, beneath the silver curtain of moonlight, he felt perfectly safe and warm. He shifted when Ryland's cock thickened even farther, took him into his throat. He didn't know why, but Ryland tasted good, too.

_Hold on. There's this thing that Lux does that I like. _He moved his head up and down, and Ryland squirmed as the tip of his cock slid in and out of Ezreal's soft, hot, wet mouth. In and out of his lips with a soft _pop _sound every once in a while, as their flesh broke contact. The sensation was slick, the pleasure intense. Ryland seized the back of his neck and held him there as he jacked himself off. His cock seemed so thick he was afraid of hurting both of them.

Then he came with three or four loud, deep moans that were closer to sighs of pleasure. Ezreal waited, blinking rapidly and feeling the cock pulse inside his mouth. He'd already swallowed. He always wanted Lux to swallow. Figured it was courtesy.

Ryland withdrew and folded both hands over his own chest, still shaking. _Holy —_

_ Am I good at it? _Ezreal curled up beneath his arm and smiled up at him. He hesitated, then put an arm over Ryland's chest. Ryland twitched, still sensitive. The viewscreen had cycled to a rerun of a League tournament. The two of them were running, in miniature, up bottom lane. He remembered this one — he and Ez had won. A stomp.

The Institute's fervor began to die down as Ryland's body finally relaxed. He nuzzled Ezreal's hair, then kissed his forehead. Ez yawned, contented with the affection.

Ryland's broad hand found the small of Ez's back. _Mm. I think you're a natural. _


	11. Noxian Nights (Part Two)

_N.B. Hello, my beloved readers. If I didn't get to your request, I'm sorry for being a terrible person. But I really, really, really need to go work on _A True Champion. _Thank you for your understanding. _

_ There's still one more chapter. Don't chew me out yet. Thank you. _

**Table of Contents**

Sunlight (Leona x Panth) — Pagebreaks 1 - 2

Red (Ezreal x Kat) — 3 - 4

Of Chandeliers (Ryland x Cressida) — 4 - end

* * *

Weary of the noise and confusion, Pantheon led her to a secluded spot, one of his favorites to haunt when he craved quietude, silence. A small thick copse of bushes. Their leaves were glossy, black-green, and smelled of ancient breezes when you crushed them between your fingers.

In the center of the plush grass stood a large marble fountain of the sun. Glistening rivulets ran, trickling, from each of the stone rays, into a deep, clear pool below that was lit from within. The underwater lamps made the water look like crystal, and the copper coins beneath the surface twinkled like captured stars, like Leona's rich, warm eyes.

And there was Leona herself. How interesting, Pantheon thought, that having a lover that reminded one of the sun was so beautiful beneath the silvery gaze of the moon. Her sundress was a gauzy mint color, falling in airy ripples to the caps of her knees. Her sandals — they were brown, studded with miniature silver stars that glittered against the healthy bronzed skin of her feet.

But her hair — that was the part Panth loved of her the most. Even in the dim light, it was magnificent, silky, lovely — a mane, a crown of colors from spring and summer and autumntide. It was the deep auburn color of the mountains of Ionia when the leaves began to turn, intertwined with strands of summer's heavenly golden sun and spring's red, red roses. It fell to the middle of her sweet breasts and lingered there, inviting Pantheon's touch.

And when Leona sat on the edge of the fountain and Panth beside her, he did so, lightly. His coarse fingertips brushed her hair's fringes, stroked them again and again. Leona's cheeks grew red.

Their love needed no words.

When she lifted the gown up and away from her body, Pantheon watched, mesmerized. The muscles of her thighs were firm, strong from her days on the Rift. They merged with her buttocks — two large, tan cheeks that flexed and moved smoothly. Her forest-green thong didn't conceal them. A few beads of water splashed onto them and clung to her curves, twinkling against her skin.

The gown came away from her breasts — two of the many things Pantheon loved about her. He had never — not in his long, warrior's history — encountered breasts like Leona's. With her smooth stomach, her muscular hips, they should've been small. But they were too large for Pantheon to encompass fully, even with his broad hands.

He tried anyway.

The green satin of her bra and her warmly-colored flesh felt the same beneath his palm — smooth, silky. The wind shifted, drizzled them with a curtain of fine mist. Leona arched her back as Panth traced her nipples with his thumbs, pressing those luscious globes towards him, inviting his kisses. He stripped her bra away with gentle fingers, and it joined the green dress in a heap on the ground. Dew was beginning to collect on each stalk of grass.

After shrugging out of his shirt and revealing his own chiseled physique, Panth kissed her gently. Her large bottom lip was traced by his tongue as he savored its smoothness and sweetness. The roaring of the fountain couldn't compete with the blood surging through his veins. Leona kissed him back, honey-toned eyes open and sparkling, nipples peaking beneath his tender yet insistent touch. He shifted one large hand to the small of her back and had her lean against it.

It had taken months for him to fully earn her trust about holding her. Though not fat in the slightest, she was often concerned by how large she was — how tawny and broad boned, with wide shoulders and hips and muscles like a lioness. But, though she believed herself unattractive, Pantheon knew the truth. He felt it reaffirmed as they embraced beneath the stormy sky. A light drizzle had begun to fall, joining and echoing the chill of the mist against the hot summer night.

As he held her by the hips and kissed her silky neck, Pantheon knew Leona was the most beautiful woman in the world.

The sweet, hot rainwater mingled with the taste of her flesh — a healthy, apple-like flavor, refreshing and sweet. His lips grew more urgent as thunder rolled nearby. Soon they were shrouded in rain.

By the light of the fountain, Pantheon saw Leona's hair turn from radiant to mysterious, a dark color like the bark of enchanted trees. He took the ends of it between his lips and sucked the rain from it, then moved his mouth to her nipples. She let out a small gasp of pleasure. It was followed by a vast, muted roar from the clouds above them. He nuzzled and nibbled her teats, mouth and tongue moving more and more urgently as the storm's power increased.

She was panting now — skin glistening, as was his — full lips open with pleasure, drinking in the rain and the heat of Pantheon's tongue. Her hands found his neck and interlaced her fingers behind it, her thumbs tracing the inner curves behind his ears. His thick muscles were steady beneath hers, but his skin was slippery. With a laugh, she splashed into the fountain, followed by him.

But she had a moment of regret. The storm-churned water lapped against her nose, her mouth — clean and coppery, but overwhelming. She gasped for air as the wild roar of rain spattered downward. Water, mixing in waves and silvery currents, battering her face, her chest.

Before she could worry, Pantheon's strong arms lifted her body upward and rested her back against the marble fountain's slippery slide. She flinched as his thumb rolled along the inner part of her crevice, soaked with arousal and rain. Then he slipped the sodden cloth from between her legs and replaced the chill with the warmth of his hand.

She threw her head back, felt the rain pounding against her face and neck, felt Pantheon penetrate her. His sex was afire with passion, almost too burning for Leona's water-chilled body to handle. But her years of sun-worshiping had prepared her for this.

She bit her lip as he spread her thighs apart and entered her, inching slowly forward. He cupped her ample buttocks with his broad hands, lifting her against him. Her hands pressed against his chest, her large, firm, wet breasts beneath his chin. He could only barely hear her gasp of pleasure as he thrust deeper — the wind snatched it away.

But he heard the deeper moan as he entered her fully. Pantheon's member wedged tightly in between Leona's trembling legs, the warmth blooming inside both of them. He held her close as he began to thrust — the slickness of her inner thighs was sweet, hot friction against his aching erection. His cock slipped in and out of her, out into the cold wavy water, in into her warm, tight body. His breath grew more ragged as her back arched, as her fingernails dragged across his skin, leaving sweet stripes behind them.

Then he came. And for a few moments, the world was rumbling thunder, the cresting of Leona's chest, surging water and roaring rain. And heat — so much heat as Pantheon's dick throbbed and pulsed and pounded inside of her.

Then it vanished. By the wavering light, he caught a glimpse of Leona's rich, honey-golden eyes smiling up at him, raindrops twinkling on the edges of her eyelashes.

Then the Wheel turned.

They gathered their clothes up and ran through the rain, Leona's laugh echoing above the storm, triumphant in a way. The sun always triumphed.

* * *

Ryland felt the tension drain from his muscles as the rain spilt from the clouds above, torrented to earth in roaring gray curtains. He loved the smell of it — the flowers' petal-throats opening up, the grass slaking its thirst. He sighed as Ezreal snuggled into his side.

"Remember. It's only weird if you make it weird."

"Got it," Ez mumbled, then yawned, buried his face deeper into Ryland's side, and fell asleep. Ryland joined him. Sleep rolled in over him like a fog. His body was expecting rest, but his mind wasn't.

He opened his eyes beneath a starry dome of a sky, surrounded on all sides by little designer shops, cathedrals and marble statues. Banners the color of a sunset were planted in the ground every few feet, and flapped lazily in the mild night breeze.

_What? _

Then he noticed Ezreal and smiled. "Hello again."

Ez stumbled back a step, unsure. He was sporting a cute black waistcoat and a red tie, his shoes shone to a high black gloss. "Why are we in Noxus?"

"Noxus?" Ryland blinked. Come to think of it — the silver scrolling along the shop banners was rich and intricate, the cathedrals massive and daunting, the stained glass windows depicting rolling green hills and waterfalls instead of the heavens. And the air smelled like exotic spice. "Noxus. I've never been."

"Good joke, master." The voice came from their right. Ryland and Ezreal turned as a boy Ezreal's height strode in from beneath the streetlamps. He was dressed exactly the same, but he looked very, very different. His eyes were pale, frost-colored, his lean face freckled, his hair red-gold, his hands deformed by scars. And he was bonier. He shook his head and smiled. "If I didn't know you any better, I'd think —"

He stumbled to a halt, eyes widening. His scar-torn hands were immediately wreathed in white-hot fire. It roared, crackled, spat sparks onto the cobblestone ground. Ezreal squeaked and hid behind Ryland's arm.

"Who are you?" The boy demanded, fox-thin face tight with a feral snarl.

"I — uh — um — shit. Fuck." Ryland shook his head. The social anxiety was flooding his body from his feet up. Well, that and his fear of the fire. His knees began to shake.

"Wait. I know who you are." Emboldened, Ezreal stepped forward, also scowling. "You're that weird guy who watched that one bitch fuck me."

_Ez, I don't think you should call someone with their hands on fire weird, _Ryland thought to him distantly.

"He _is _weird, Ryland." Ezreal looked up at him. "Look at him, for fuck's sake."

"The only weird thing I see here is you and your companion," the boy spat. He addressed Ryland. "Why do you look like Demetrius?"

"I — who? I really don't —"

"You know, Caelyn, I really wish you'd wait a few minutes before summoning Shades of me to keep yourself company." Another voice. Mild, well-bred. Ryland saw the speaker strolling towards them and felt his stomach drop out of his body, onto the ground. A Noxian General, somehow even taller than Ryland himself.

But what was truly striking was his suit.

A _Carandelli_. Top of the top of the line. His shoes, too — custom leather from _Trivibach. _And his cuff-links and matching tie pin made Ryland start to shake. They were black pearl roses. He didn't have to recognize the cut of the man's black tie to know it was extravagant and tasteful. The man made the Crownguard's look middle class, the Whitefield's poor, the dar Regale's subhuman.

As if sensing Ryland's discomfort, the man shook his head. His face was angular and handsome and, being from Noxus, his hair was black, his eyes green. "Did you really have to pack one of the _Carandelli, _child?"

"I hardly see a more fitting occasion for it," Caelyn said from the corner of his mouth. His pale eyes hadn't left Ryland's face, though the flames around his hands went out. "You're meeting all the delegates from Runeterra."

"I know, but people get so strange around it. It makes them nervous. Sometimes I want to tell them I've got four more hanging up at home just to see their react — oh. Good evening." Demetrius flushed. "I thought you were Shades. Please forgive me."

Ezreal had squeezed back under Ryland's arm. Ryland could only stare.

"Hold a moment." Demetrius squinted, then glanced at something behind Ryland. "Your majesty?"

"Um. Nope. Not — nope." Ryland shook his head and began to back away. "Not today."

"Your — your name is Ryland though, correct?" Demetrius inquired politely, tugging at the sleeve of his suit. He looked almost as nervous as Ryland himself. Caelyn had burrowed beneath Demetrius' arm, echoing Ez. He was still eying Ezreal uneasily.

"Yes, but —"

"And you do bear a rather — interesting — similarity to the statue behind you," Demetrius coughed. Ryland whirled.

He was right. The statue of King Ryland looked exactly like Ryland himself. The Healer looked down at his own plain black armor, then back up to the black-marble ten-foot-tall replica of himself, gazing sternly out over Noxus.

_Fuck, _Ryland thought. "Well." He shook his head and laughed, unable to think of anything else to say. "Well."

"It's alright. I, too, suffer from intense social anxiety." Demetrius nodded, looking relieved.

"Really?" Ryland blinked. "That's very upfront of you." _And makes me feel so much better. _

"Yes. I try to be considerate of it. And your Dove's quite cute." Demetrius scratched under Ezreal's chin, then ruffled his golden hair. Ezreal leaned into him, eyes half-closed. Then suddenly withdrew.

"Oh, no. Oh, hell no." Ezreal bared his teeth. Demetrius snatched his hand away with a blush. "Ryland. I'm dressed like one of those guys."

"And what's wrong with being dressed like one of those guys?" Caelyn asked sharply.

"What's wrong?" Ezreal barked laughter and jabbed a finger at Caelyn's chest. "You guys think I'm gonna walk around like Ryland's bitch, that he's gonna keep me as a pet —"

Demetrius's eyes widened. "I'm terribly sorry. It's, ah, custom in our count —"

Ryland could only stare. Golden sparks were flickering in the Explorer's hair. Caelyn's eyes were gleaming a dull red, fangs resting on his lower lip. "Uhh. Ezreal."

Ezreal's fists clenched. "Just because I'm some little blonde guy means I have to attach myself to some bigger guy and call him _master_. Well, fuck no. I'm a real m —"

"_Ezreal_." Ryland clapped hand over his mouth. "I'm really sorry, I —"

Demetrius swallowed hard. "No, no. My apologies. I'm absolutely horrible at this delegate business. It's my f —"

"Let go of me!" Ezreal's teeth sank into Ryland's finger. He pulled it away with a hiss.

"Ouch! What the fuck, Ez?"

"Real man? I see a coward who can't admit certain traits to himself." Caelyn scoffed. "Pathetic."

"Caelyn." Demetrius tugged on his ear. "No need to make him feel worse about his — upsetting attire. I've never seen anyone so angered by their own vest and tie. Perhaps it's the custom of his country. Catharsis, maybe."

Ryland tried not to laugh. The General's sense of humor was even drier than Ryland's own, and the entire situation was just — bizarre. It was a dream, but still.

Ezreal's eyes blazed. "You're calling me pathetic? Hold on, let me get my master's opini —"

"You could conceal your jealousy a little better, storm-cloud." Caelyn dusted his hands against his jacket, elaborately casual. "The other boys are much more calm about it."

Ezreal barked laughter. "You think I'm jealous of a little faggot like you?"

Demetrius winced. Tiny strips of fire encircled Caelyn's rough fingers.

"Hey!" Ryland shouted. His voice boomed over the park. He grabbed Ezreal by the shoulders and shook him. "Relax!" _Why are you losing your shit? _

Before Ez could respond, Ryland heard the General say to Caelyn via their own mental link, _It's just like Saint Garrett, love. Not worth it. _

Ezreal's blue eyes glittered defiantly. _I'm still straight. _

_ I — I know that. _Ryland almost patted his head. Habit. Ezreal's frown deepened. His frenetic thoughts were confusing Ryland. Ez didn't want to be confused for Ryland's pet because he was supposed to be a famous techmaturgist, everyone would think he and Ryland were dating or — something — and —

"Unfortunately, I believe it's best we part, your majesty." Demetrius was cupping Caelyn's chin and forcing him to focus on Demetrius' face. That boy's scowl was scarier than Ezreal's, as it had more teeth and redder eyes. "I'd prefer not to pit them against one another. Not right now, at least. Perhaps if we were in Demacia and not Noxus." Demetrius glanced at him. "I'd hate to destroy the state's property, even if only in a dream. Dream taxes and all that."

Ryland smiled. _I could get used to this guy. _ "I'm really sorry. Hopefully things will, um, go better tomorrow."

"At the banquet I presume? Oh. Of course at the banquet. What am I talking about?" Demetrius sighed and rubbed his temples. "Maybe I'll be less nervous. Ta — aikah, King Ryland."

_King, _Ryland thought. "Have a nice night. Come on, Ez." Ezreal followed him with one last snarl over his shoulder. Caelyn returned it.

As the two of them waded deeper into the night-cloaked streets of Noxus, the city grew more crowded. Generals lifted their hands in salutes as Ryland passed by. Women in saffron, crimson, indigo fanned themselves and traced Ryland and Ezreal's bodies from head to toe, smiles secretive.

And laughing blonde boys — dressed just like Ez — drifted past, chattering in some trilling foreign tongue. Ezreal's frown deepened with each one.

"Dude," Ryland finally said. "What was that? I've never seen you that mad."

"Did you see the way he just fucking petted me?" Ezreal's eyes were wild.

"Yeah." _And how you enjoyed it for a little while. I saw that too. _

"Wouldn't you be mad if some dude just — petted you?" Ezreal asked, incredulous. They passed through a wavering patch of light cast by a bar and came to a stop on its fringes. Ez's face was still dark with anger.

"I — no? No, I wouldn't." Ryland shrugged. _Especially not if it were that g — _He cut the thought off abruptly, flushing darkly.

"Really. If some guy you didn't know just walked up and petted you."

"Like this?" One of the Generals passing by ruffled Ez's hair with a grin. Ezreal gnashed his teeth.

"Degardo!" Someone else hissed. "Don't pet the Destroyer. Are you out of your damn mind?"

"Why? I'm sure King Ryland doesn't mind us enjoying his Willow-Dove." Degardo saluted and vanished into the night.

_Oh, great, _Ryland thought with an inner sigh. He wasn't surprised when Ezreal snarled, "Fuck this." He whirled on his heel and began to stride away.

"Wait! Where are you going?" _Alone? In Noxus at night? Dressed like a Dove? _

"I don't need a chaperone, _master_," Ezreal spat over his shoulder.

Ryland watched him go, eyebrows raised. _Well, damn. _

He shook his head and almost walked directly into a cluster of Generals standing outside the bar, leaning against the front. They examined him with curious green eyes, then lifted their red shot glasses and clinked them together.

"To the king's health," one of them rumbled. "He'll need it with a Dove like that." There was a ripple of appreciative laughter, followed by salutes.

Ryland heaved a sigh. _Well, _he thought again. _Damn. _

* * *

_Think I'm Ryland's little servant? When I've been published over a hundred times in academic journals? And I'm dating Lux? Please. Don't make me laugh. _Ezreal kicked a rock alongside a mostly-deserted, tree-shaded road, still scowling.

_How could weird-hand guy call that other guy 'master' with a straight face? What kind of fucking bullshit country is this? _His toe connected with the rock again.

He didn't see Katarina fade out of the shadows, spot him, and grin. Her body was still spattered with bruises — against the pale canvas of her skin, they looked like surrealist splotches of paint. She was in a short black dress, tall red heels and a huge feather boa the color of passion. Red.

Her heels clicked along the sidewalk as she trailed the grumpy Explorer. _Can't touch Ryland. Darius said nothing about his pet, though. _Ez still didn't turn around — not even when Kat was inches away. _Besides. I should probably get him off the streets before he gets hurt. Well, too hurt. _

"Hey, kid. You lost?"

He whirled on her, hands upraised and glittering. Then slowly let them down. A stray spark of gold fluttered to the ground. "Are you following me?"

"Nah." She smirked. "I'm just behind you."

"Not in the mood," Ez huffed. He turned to go, and Kat's hand snatched out, grabbing the tip of his tie.

"What's your hurry? Got somewhere you've gotta be?"

"Yeah. A place called 'Not Here.'"

"Oooh. Witty," Kat purred. In her red heels, she towered over him. And the little waistcoat was a nice touch. She savored the glint of fear in his crystal blue eyes as he tried to pull away and couldn't.

"Why's everyone so clingy?" Ez growled. A few of the other Doves on the other side of the street had stopped, were watching with glittery blue eyes, only slightly lighter in shade than Ezreal's.

"Is that Jennings' Boy?" Kat heard one of them whisper.

"No, I think it's Wren."

Kat laughed aloud, yanked the tie, brought him closer. Ez stumbled forward. "They really do think you're one of them."

"Sh - shut up. I'm not! They're stupid!"

"How do you know you wouldn't like it?" She traced his cheekbone with her wine-colored fingernails, watched as Ezreal's neck broke into goosebumps.

He swallowed hard. "Like what?"

"Being someone's little pet. You know." She heard him think _Noxians and their dirty talk. It's my greatest weakness. Fuck. _"Being there to fulfill all their desires." She trailed her nails across his jaw and held his tie tighter. The night air was thickening. "At their command, to pleasure them, to let them use you, your dick, your mouth —"

He was hard again. _No wonder Lux is so worried, _Kat thought. _It really doesn't take much to turn him on. _She rested her thumb on his lips, her other fingers on his throat. The low light made her nails a mysterious near-black. She leaned into him, green eyes aglitter. He shivered.

"I think you'd like it."

He blinked up at her, quivering.

_Holy shit. He really does look like a Willow-Dove. Got the eyelash flutter down and everything. _Her nipples hardened. She'd always wanted to fuck one of the Generals' boys, but they were off-limits. Only made them more enticing, of course.

This one was hers. He didn't resist when she led him into a nearby alley — everyone knew not to walk Noxus' alleys after dark, as they were basically brothels. The other Doves whispered briefly to one another, then followed them, bright blue eyes shiny in the gray eventide.

"Let's take care of these." She pulled the vest off, followed by the shirt. One of the Doves caught them. He whispered to his friends in their birdsong dialect. They whispered back, agreeing.

Ezreal was left in his pants and red tie, lean and skinny, watching her, hesitant. She admired his taut stomach ad his messy golden hair before growing impatient.

Kat pulled the tie again. "Pants off."

"Wh — we're outside!" He looked around and snarled. "And those weird guys are watching!" The Doves exchanged glances and shrugs.

"It's Noxus, sweetheart." She yanked the tie and he choked, dug at the silk with his fingers. He gasped. It wasn't loosening. "Pants —"

"No!"

Her eyes narrowed. "I'll choke you out. How'd you like me to leave you unconscious here, huh? You wouldn't be able to walk for a week."

He fumbled for the buttons of his dress pants, for the belt buckle. They fell to his ankles. Kat loosened her grip. He blushed, a warm red in the dark night. The front of his black boxers was bulging with an obvious erection.

Kat's grin widened. _He looks fucking adorable. _She pulled him close — so close that his bony chest was even with her ribs, his face buried in the fluffy red feathers of her boa. She reached down and playfully squeezed his balls. He gasped, got a mouthful of feathers, sneezed, then cried out when Kat's nimble fingers brushed the tip of his dick.

She leaned in, whispered, "How'd you like me to give you head right now?"

"R - right now?" Ez flinched as his dick twitched, got hard enough to peep through the hole in his boxers. He glanced around. The other Doves shrugged and nodded, encouraging him. "Why are there always people watching?"

"I told you earlier." She squeezed his balls again. He leaned away, almost stumbled .She snapped the red tie tight to keep him on his feet. Everything was silvery and red except her icy green eyes. "It's Noxus."

She shoved him against a wall. Her mouth — ravenous — consumed his, her lips hot satin against his silk. Her tongue touched the tip of his, then went deeper. The sudden intimacy startled Ezreal into a gasp.

"Mhm. See?" She bit his earlobe and chuckled. "You like it."

"Quit it." His voice was little more than a whisper. _Why can't I ever be on top? Ever? _

"Because you're weak." Kat bent her knees, pulled his dick through his boxers, and swallowed it. Ezreal's cry was stifled by her tugging on the tie. He spread his legs and rested both hands on the top of her head. He could only barely see the bouncy curve of her butt, pushed out by her taut thighs. Her red hair had fallen into her eyes.

He whimpered as his dick slid down her throat, then gasped and choked when she squeezed the tops of his legs, near his hips. Then she swirled her tongue across the bottom of his cock — smoothly, but with great pressure — pursed her lips together, and let the head of his dick leave her mouth with a wet _pop_. He was already moaning and gasping.

"Wouldn't last ten minutes with a General," Kat heard one of the Doves murmur with faint distaste. Kat grinned.

"Try two," whispered another.

She used the tie to hold him steady, but he was still shaking with anticipation. She deep-throated him, felt him thudding in her mouth and throat. Then she made out with his dick — Frenched it, as some on a different Wheel would say — winding her tongue around it, pulling back and dotting it with little kisses, lapping it. Ezreal's moans grew louder, vibrated his chest.

She added pressure to his sack, squeezing it lightly with her fingers. The little guys with the thick dicks always seemed to like that. He shifted back a little, but she was still yanking on the tie. The red band of silk kept him firmly in her grasp.

His hands gripped the sides of her face, his smooth abs pressed to her forehead. Then she pulled away. Her gleaming green eyes met his dark blue ones.

"And how'd you like if I fucked you?"

"I —" Ezreal shook his head. "I don't —"

"Shhh." She rolled the skirt of her micro-dress up, shifted aside her black underwear, and slid the head of his cock up and down her red-hot crevice. There was a wet sound — her pussy and mouth were both equally damp. Ezreal gasped painfully into the humid night air.

Then Kat turned around, ground her ass against him. She spread her legs and bent her knees and slid down the length of his dick, pressed her taut butt to his thin hips. She felt him take the edges of her hair in his fingers and laughed, then moaned as he started to thrust. The rhythm sped up immediately, the slick friction making both of their bodies tense against one another.

This was Noxus. She missed it, always.

For a little guy, Ez was pretty damn wide. He managed to spread her lower lips apart, to make her body tingle every time he drove in deep. Her head was starting to ache from the hair pulling, but she didn't mind. The tension from that and her high heels made it easy to come, to wet his cock with thick fluid.

She moaned, red lips wide open, then slipped off him and pushed him against the wall again. She hauled on his tie until he stood on his tiptoes, then shoved her tits in his face and held them there. She heard him choke, but it only filled her with delight, not pity. His hot breath burned against her skin, made her sweat.

When her lower lips slipped all the way to the base of his shaft, come spurted out of him, into her.

She pulled away with another laugh. His eyes were still squeezed shut, body wracked with post-climax shivers, his cock protruding from his black boxers. "Hey."

He didn't answer.

"Hey."

He was still busy quaking. Sweat dampened his golden bangs.

"Ezreal."

"What?" He whispered. His blue eyes were glassy with weariness. He and Luxanna usually only had sex, like, two times a week, tops. And now this. He was exhausted.

She grinned as one of the Doves pressed Ez's clothes into her hands. The boys fluttered off, whispering to one another. "You're a bitch."

He was too tired to argue.

* * *

Noxus at night was — interesting.

The laughter seemed too loud, the vegetation too lush. The trees shading the roads had black leaves thicker than parchment, white-blue blossoms floating among their branches, as plush as captured crane feathers.

And the people — too attractive. Ryland wasn't difficult to impress, but it took much to catch his attention. Still, he found his eyes chasing a new half-glimpsed form through the dark every few moments. A pale, statuesque red-haired man in nothing but blue jeans. A tall black woman, white swirls painted beside her deep, dark eyes, dressed in turquoise veils. Twins — a boy and a girl, same short, dark hyacinthine hair curling by their temples, same green tanktops. They added a wink to the usual smile and nod.

There was that, too. All the attractive people already knew him. He'd tripped over his feet with the redhead grinned at him.

And the clothing dazzled was dazzling, even in the dimness. Purple-gold cloaks, skirts that covered almost nothing. A black bra, shining with dewdrop diamonds, playfully winking through a white mesh shirt.

And red flowers spilling from baskets overhead, and moths as large as his hands fluttering around them. Spices and fried meat. Street musicians, sweet-tongued pipes not even Ryland could identify. Keyboards, trumpets.

Ryland felt his chest ache. His excitement was morphing to anxiety, overstimulation. After Demacia, with its uniform art and faceless legions, Noxus was breathtaking. Dizzying.

When he began to shake, he tugged the sleeve of the General nearest him. The man was ordering cold drinks from a neon-lined street car whose glaring blue letters read _the Herbalist. _A group of glittery-eyed children nearby were entranced by a shirtless tan man, body striped like a tiger, juggling spheres of fire.

Ryland wasn't entirely surprised to find that the General was Demetrius from earlier, who was a study of handsomeness in his own right. General Falin had taken off his _Carandelli _jacket, leaving only his open-throated white dress-shirt. It clung to his long, lean-limbed body. Ryland felt his cheeks warm when his green eyes turned towards him.

"Ahh." Demetrius smiled cordially, and Ryland's heart dropped a beat. "Yes, your majesty?"

"H - hi." Ryland swallowed hard, noticed Caelyn peering up at him, and flushed harder.

"I'm pleased that the king is attractive," Caelyn said quietly. His frosty eyes shone with appreciation, and Ryland almost fell over.

Demetrius swatted his boy. "You're already trying to kill him, aren't you?"

"Can I not offer him a compliment? Are you that possessive now?" Caelyn's grin widened.

Demetrius rolled his eyes. "I'm possessive, he says. You know, your majesty, he almost torched you earlier because he mistook you for me and your companion for a young Battle Saint."

Caelyn turned crimson. He gripped Demetrius' shirt sleeve. "You didn't need to tell him that!"

Ryland couldn't answer, no matter how much he wanted to. There were just too many questions.

"Here. Drink this." Demetrius pressed the frigid glass into his hand — even the drink was colorful, a hearty, rustic blue. Ryland took a sip and felt part of his anxiety evaporate.

"What is this?"

"Blueberry chamomile. Probably honey in there somewhere." Demetrius smiled knowingly. _Gods, _Ryland thought. _That's comforting, too. _"Believe me. Dream Noxus isn't the easiest thing on people such as you and I."

"Dream Noxus." Ryland glanced around him. A few of the passer-by glanced back, smiled. Grins of all types, small, secretive, sunny, open. "I forgot I was asleep, actually."

"I believe it's your interpretation too, sir." Caelyn's smile became less predatory. "It usually takes more than one sorcerer, but you're rumored to be very, very powerful."

"Occasionally Empaths gather the people of Noxus together in a single dream at night," Demetrius explained, seeing Ryland's confusion. He nodded to two passing Willow-Doves. They were waving sparklers, smiles flashing as bright as their golden hair.

Ryland cocked his head, determined to look everywhere but Demetrius' friendly face. Not that Caelyn's acute interest was any less unnerving. "Why?"

"_Why not_ is usually the Noxian question." Demetrius looked thoughtfully at the starry sky. "It's always a pleasant surprise, to close your eyes and wake up at a city-wide party. Or would be, if you're not an introvert as I am. And presumably you are."

Ryland smiled. "I was wondering if there was any place to go clear my head."

"The _L'Rae Divin_." Caelyn sipped his own fiery-red concoction and pointed to the right with one scarred finger, above the heads of the milling crowd. "That way, your majesty. You can't miss it. It'll relax you if you let it."

"Really?"

"Guaranteed, sir." Caelyn's eyelash flutter made Ryland twitch.

"I — is it a brothel?" He blurted.

Demetrius choked on his own smoothie. "Oh, gods. That sounds like something one of the critics would say."

"It's —" Caelyn had to pause for air, he was laughing so hard. "It's the National Noxian Theater."

"Oh." Ryland chuckled, then buried his burning face in his hand. "I'm a godsdamned idiot."

Demetrius fanned his face as the tiger-man blew a jet of fire atoms above his audience's head. There were gasps and delighted shrieks.

"Amateur," Caelyn murmured. A few red sparks danced along his torn fingertips. Ryland struggled not to flinch.

Demetrius ignored the spectacle. His eyes, Ryland noticed, were the same deep green of his own, but — clearer. Unmuddied by silver. "Ignorance isn't stupidity by any means, sir. I'm qualified to say that, too."

Ryland cleared his throat. "Oh?"

"I'm Noxus' intelligence gatherer." He winked. Ryland had to look away.

"Only reason we haven't been executed. Right, master?" Caelyn nuzzled Demetrius' arm, then leaned against his chest.

"Aye." He scratched beneath Caelyn's chin. The look of pleasurable contentment on the boy's face made Ryland even more uncomfortable. "I'm sure Jericho can't wait to see us and remind us of that."

"I'll, ah, be off, then." Ryland tugged at the collar of his shirt beneath his armor.

"Good luck, your majesty." Demetrius nodded. "Deep breaths."

_Right, _Ryland thought, wading back into the crowd. _Breathe. _Culture shock had left his ears ringing, pulse pounding. It would be a long time, he thought, before he'd be able to look at affection between people like Demetrius and Caelyn and not feel the bottom of his stomach turn cold.

_Or affection in general, _part of him whispered. He shivered.

By the time he traversed the main street — it was growing ever-thicker with bodies — his pulse was fluttering so quickly he feared fainting. He didn't have time to admire the sign. _L'Rae Divin _in golden gilt letters, with marble swans arching their necks beside it, wings outspread, a foaming fountain roaring behind it. He hurried up the black stairs and inside the glass double-doors, not noticing the faint gold dusted over them.

Caelyn was right. The cool air struck his face and blew past him, seemed to pull his anxiety along with it.

He stood in a dim, empty lobby. Twin staircases edged by intricate black railing rose to one central set of doors. These ones were glossy, dark, rich, almost mahogany, with handles as silver as the moon.

As Ryland let his heart slow from a trill to its usual flutter, he felt himself take one step, then another. The click of his boots echoed off the walls, the high ceiling, the magnificent chandelier. The latter was an opus of shimmery crystal even when tuned to half luminosity.

_There's nothing like this in all of Demacia, _Ryland thought. _Not the feast hall. Not even the palace. _He no longer noticed that his feet were moving without his input.

They carried him slowly up a set of the stairs, pausing every now and then to let him admire the posters framed on the wall. _The Leg of the Rook, _one read, sporting a picture of a man in a golden top hat. The rest of his clothes were in tatters. He was kneeling and praying in a beam of red-gold light on an empty stage.

_Arten Riveria _was another. Ryland frowned at it for a few moments. Young girls in nothing but underwear and chains leaned against a throne made of skulls, their eyes wide, haunting.

The last poster — the largest — was minimalistic. _Demetrius & Caelyn, _it read in white letters at the top. The rest of the pitch-black poster was occupied by an enormous silver Wheel, like that commanding a ship. Half of it was aflame. And — Ryland squinted at the bottom — two tiny black figures, silhouettes, stood at the bottom of the Wheel, the shorter one lifting a torch to it.

_Noxus is beautiful, _he thought, his heart slowing. His feet drifted into the auditorium.

Deserted, only partially lit. Chandeliers again, silvery branches reaching out over the ceiling like the tree-limbs in a fairy-tale forest, glittering, twinkling off his armor. On the stage was a large grand piano.

Ryland's breath caught. It had been a long time.

There was no concert piano at the Institute. He'd mentioned it to Zandred, who had frowned. _I'll look into it, but — is the baby grand in Sona's suite not enough? _

Nothing compared to a full-scale piano. Nothing at all.

He hesitated. _I shouldn't. Should I? _He glanced around. _What if security goes off? Or will it? It's a dream. My dream, right? _He shook his head and strode down the stairs. The keys were calling for him.

Part of it was the craving for something familiar after the streets. But part of it was a craving for the stage — he'd never been on one this big.

The wood beneath his feet was strangely shiny. With one last glance out at the empty auditorium — the seats barely visible, shrouded in mystery — he pulled the bench back, settled onto it and began to play.

The instrument, like all else, was beautiful. The strings were perfectly tuned, the keys as smooth as velvet beneath his hands. He played a few arpeggios, listened to them chime around the vast chamber. Then he took a deep breath.

The third movement from the _Aven & Skylan _suite — _Starfall. _

The slow tempo picked up after the second line, cascaded into a rippling series of glissandos. He jumped when he heard a voice begin to sing along. It was right behind him.

But he couldn't stop playing. The music was taking him, the piano and the woman soaring together, above the frosted peaks of Freljord, above the cold, lace-thin layer of gray clouds in spring.

Her accent was perfect, her voice sweeter than a mountain spring.

"I'tonyo Ah-vennn, li'tion divae —"

He closed his eyes, listening. The music poured into him, lush and chilly, like the meadows near the Ironspike Mountains beneath his bare feet, refreshing like the wind. They neared the end, slowing in perfect unison.

"_Ah-vennn, Ahven — L'tonyo I'frae, Ahvennn._"

And when her voice finished ringing above the empty seats and in Ryland's ears, she laughed. He didn't turn around.

"Who are you?" he asked softly.

"It's been a long time, your majesty."

"You —" Ryland glanced out into the seats again, suddenly convinced they were full of people. They weren't. "You know me?"

"Of course." She laughed again, quieter. "You know me, though you've probably forgotten. Ah, my Ryland."

He swallowed hard. Her voice — even her speaking voice — was magnificent. So many layers, hidden chords. He braced himself and looked over his shoulder.

Red — his first impression. Long, dense red flowing around hourglass curves, pooling onto the floor. Then the curves themselves. Her hips were wide and luscious, her breasts large and perfectly proportioned. A black diamond hung right above her cleavage, a black star twinkling against snowy skin. Her pale gold hair was luxuriant, pinned in place by more mysterious black jewels. And her eyes, deep blue-green.

Ryland couldn't breathe. There was the briefest flash of recognition. Then it was gone, dissipated like the last note of a symphony.

"Y - you're beautiful," he managed, then blushed so hard the sides of his vision grayed. She smiled and settled beside him, her ruby dress brushing his arm. He got a whiff of exotic summer blooms rising from her dove-soft skin.

She was even more gorgeous up close.

He gasped when she trailed her fingers across the back of his neck, then shuddered when her fingers cupped his jaw.

The light in her eyes grew nostalgic. "You've not changed, dear boy."

"I don't —" _know you, _he wanted to say. But as with Aven, it wasn't quite true.

"You do know me. You did. You will again." She pressed her lips to the sensitive spot on his neck right beneath his ear, then grabbed his wrists when he tried to flinch away. That was his favorite spot to be kissed — it always made him instantly hard.

How did she know?

But though the grip on his wrists was strong, it was gentle. The woman kneaded them as Ryland felt his groin warm, then stiffen. His face was still darkly flushed.

"W - who are you?"

"Cressida." She pressed her lips to his temple, then his cheek, then his collarbone. Her hold on his wrists grew a little tighter. The silkiness of her hair on his neck had him shivery with arousal.

Her full lower lip grazed his ear. "Would you play for me?"

"Aye." _What? _He thought remotely. The words slipped out of him without his approval. "Of course. From the _Autumntide Suite_?"

Her eyes flashed with delight. "You do remember! I knew it."

"The fourth movement," he heard himself say. "Right? _Lily's Aubade_?"

She kissed him in answer, her tongue brushing both of his lips as his fingers met the keys once more. He kissed her back. Her lips were warm in the large, empty concert hall, her breath sweet like cinnamon. She ran her fingers through his hair as he played the first few notes, settled into the rhythm.

He found himself smiling against her mouth as she lightly grazed the tips of his ears. She had to know him. She knew exactly how to touch him.

_As the lilies fade, darkness rolls along the land…_

The words were there, in both of their minds. She pressed her curves to Ryland's bony side, and he saw himself and the woman onstage long ago, playing to a packed house. She was draped in pearls.

In the present, she squeezed his jaw. Her kiss was insistent, hot — it forced him to respond, called his body to hers, begged for their mouths to melt together. And they did, their lips and tongues perfect matches, her kiss sultry and balmy and sweet. He didn't know how he was still playing.

_Crickets call, flowers die. Cranes draw ribbons in the sand…_

Her hand was on his upper thigh. It lingered there, burning. His cock was aching to be stroked, to be caressed by her delicate fingers. As her breasts pressed to his chin, he moaned softly, their lips connected. Her tongue flicked against his, then grew greedy, swirling along his own. She suckled his lower lip. Her fingernails dug into his leg, and his back arched.

One of his broad pianist's hands found the small of her back, above the supple swell of her buttocks. Somehow the aubade continued.

_The blue-dark waves lap the gray-black shore. The reeds, they wave, in frozen wind…_

She was almost on top of him. _I need you, _she thought to him. _Ryland. _He could feel her pulse echoing in her lips, thudding against his. He responded by taking an ample cheek in each hand, squeezing them hard through her dress. They gave way beneath his fingers, the perfect mixture of litheness and feathery softness. His face was almost between her breasts — his cheek brushed that dark pendant.

Suddenly impatient, he jerked the front of her dress down, then the black bra beneath it, almost tearing it in his urgency. He revealed her berry-hued nipples, cupped the lower swell of her right breast, and took the soft peak into his mouth. He nipped her and heard a throaty moan escape her lips, as trembly with desire as he was.

He nipped her harder, then again, turning the nipple to a tender rosy pink. Her cheeks bloomed with color. He kissed her neck and teased the fringes of her hair with his fingers. Then he did the same to her other breast — made her nipples sore. He kissed them gently, the tip of his tongue barely brushing them. Her moan was louder this time, muffled against his ebony hair.

_The forest black, the creatures still, the sky aglow, a-burn with day's end._

His dexterous hands fumbled beneath her dress, then slid along the inside of her thick thighs. Her skin was almost too soft to feel. Her moans grew louder, louder as his fingers brushed aside her underwear, past her down-fuzzed outer lips, then into the secretive, burning rill of flesh in her crevice.

Ryland didn't have to see it. He knew it was cherry-blossom pink and soaked, glistening like flower petals after rain. He spread it apart with two fingers, then gently slid the third inside her. Her white bosom pressed against his face, her nipples still taut and swollen, glossy with his saliva. Her back arched.

He heard her whisper his name and couldn't contain himself. He undid the stand of the piano cover and gently closed it, then looked at her. Her breasts were swaying along with her black diamond pendant, her ass two thick hills beneath the red of her dress. The desire smoldering in her aquamarine eyes echoed the smile curving her lips.

Knowing. She knew him.

_And yet, my love, the flowers hope. The wind, though cold, forever yearns…_

He climbed atop the piano and pulled her up with him. Another part of him was reliving — something. Her voice, the theater. Long ago. A pleasant springtide afternoon, a teary-eyed audience.

In the present, he freed his swollen dick from his pants, then hooked his fingers into the straps of her panties and pulled them downward. She straddled him and enveloped his shaft with her hand, pulling on it while she watched him moan. In the dim light, he watched her nipples stiffen again, stiffen along with his cock — harder than ever, burning and thick.

And he watched as her coral lips found the tip of it. Her breasts framed his shaft, two thick, plushy weights on either side. He pulled her upward by her wrists, brought those breasts to his face. He squeezed his eyes shut as she slid down onto him. Hot, yearning.

She was slick, but tight. So tight. He braced his fingers against the shiny lid of the piano as he plunged inside of her. Her muscles quivered as he thrust once, twice. Then he folded his hands around her wide hips and held her atop his pulsing cock, held her in place as he moved deeper inside of her. The scent of her sex mingled with and echoed the flavor of her perfume.

_And though the day is gone, the lilies worry not. For, my love…_

He opened his eyes to watch her perfect oval face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted with pure pleasure. A ripple of her golden hair had come loose from her black diamond pin and tickled his lips. The swell of her breasts was painted silver by the chandeliers dangling in the black above them.

He felt her clench, saw her bite her lower lip. A moment later the orgasm overtook him. He panted and clutched her to him, the black diamond against his collarbone, her breasts to his face, his fingers deep in her shining hair, her damp thighs tight against his. His cock throbbed and pounded inside her wet warmth.

His body was consumed by thick, dark pleasure.

…_the Wheel ever turns. We'll meet again. _

She collapsed against him and nuzzled his neck. And for a while, he simply held her and watched the chandeliers twinkle above him. Like the night sky. A galaxy. Infinite and beautiful. The static in his ears sounded vaguely like applause.

At the very back of the auditorium, cloaked in shadow, Demetrius glanced at Caelyn, who was watching the duo on the piano with a catlike grin. "You and Cressida — there's just no escape, is there, love?"

"No." Caelyn laughed quietly. "None."


	12. Rain

The pre-dawn rain had softened to a hushed whisper. Most of the orgies were through — naked people were draped everywhere inside the most of the Quarters, dozing, snoring, arms entwined.

Erinae slammed out of Zandred's office, gold eyes bright with alarm, and pulled the hood of her purple robe over her short blonde hair. After tickle-torturing about fifteen young men, she'd noticed that Zandred hadn't returned and freaked.

She flew over puddles, jumped over snoozing couples oblivious to the rain. _Ah shit. If he's dead, what the fuck do we do? _She scowled. _I'm sure as shit not running this place. _

Then she spotted him lying face down and jogged to his side, shoes splashing. "Baldy! Baldy, speak to me!"

He groaned something and she knelt beside him to hear better, overwhelmed equally with relief and sudden weariness.

"The fuck did you say?"

"Respect…their…customs." He snored and Erinae shook him.

"We'll respect their customs later. C'mon." When he didn't answer, Erinae slapped him. "Hey!"

Zandred's purple eyes finally opened. "What — Erinae. What happened?"

"No fucking clue. Come on, Baldy McPurpleEyes." She tugged him upward, then dragged him towards his office, where his viewscreen was already blinking with messages from reporters and caterers. He groaned. His joints felt like cement.

"This is no time to be old!" Erinae pranced nervously from foot to foot. "We gotta party to throw!"

"Not sure anything can really outdo yesterday," Zandred muttered. Then he rubbed his temples and paused. "Erinae. Where are Jatt and Turley?"

"Oh." She blushed. "Don't you worry. You better get started with those people." She fled him, ignoring his confusion. He didn't know she was headed for a broom closet, where the two boys were tied up, asleep.

* * *

People elsewhere began to stir. Talon awoke to a back screeching with pain, and to Ahri's tail teasing the end of his exposed dick. He had somehow fallen into a painful slumber filled with broken images of women raping men, slept despite his nakedness and compromising position.

With two other tails, Ahri neatly undid the pink fuzzy cuffs, cupped Talon's chin and kissed him. He actually gasped against Ahri's mouth as his muscles unknotted. He collapsed onto the messy sheets with a shudder.

"You've been very patient," she murmured into his ear. Her mouth smelled like spearmint and dark chocolate.

The tail massaged his morning wood — it didn't even feel erotic. Her touch was simply easing the pain.

"Come with me," she whispered, and pulled him upward. He stumbled into Sarah Fortune's nightstand. Fortune was lying, deeply in slumber, sprawled out naked on her bed. Her red hair frizzed in the humidity. Talon thought blankly that she looked rather like a doll.

Ahri winked and put a finger to his lips, then led him into the bathroom. On the short journey he managed to trip over two pairs of shoes and a replica of a ship.

Though the room was messy, this space was open and clean. The black and white tiling made Talon's eyes swim. He somehow managed to make it into the bathtub and stood shivering, naked, beneath the faucet.

Ahri stripped out of the white lace teddy she was wearing and turned the water on. The pair of them were immediately wreathed in steam. Talon winced — the hot water was scalding his tingling skin, but soothing the tension in his muscles.

Ahri's tails gave off a smell like damp firewood as the water doused them, darkening the pale fur. She squirted some obscure, spicy soap into her hands and began to rub it over Talon's shoulders. He gritted his teeth against the wave of searing pain, but couldn't stop a hiss. His stomach lurched.

Ahri leaned forward and nipped his earlobe. "Shhh."

"I'm trying." Her firm breasts squeezed against his back and he was hard again. His balls felt like too lumps of coal. "Ughhh."

Ahri wrapped her arms around his lean chest and made him lean back into her. Her wet tails began to rub his sore groin, brushing the length of his dick and the bottom of his sack. Others of her dexterous appendages wound around his skinny limbs.

But she wasn't restraining him. She was cradling him. She licked the back of his neck, her hands caressing his chest, then rubbing his aching abs. He flinched when her fingers brushed his dick.

"I can't — the teasing —"

"No teasing." She nuzzled him and began to stroke him, a slow, deep, steady rhythm that sent shivers through his body like ripples electric. He almost lost consciousness as his body abruptly dumped all spare blood into his cock. It pounded almost as hard as his heart. He didn't realize he was moaning until he choked on shower water.

Her fingertips were magic. They were soothing, calming and arousing all at once, forcing him to full hardness, to pounding thickness. He had no other option but to lie meekly in her arms and tails and let her have full control over his dick.

Then he came, and it hurt. His weary muscles clenched, his dick throbbing as he emptied himself entirely. Ahri still held him — he would've fallen otherwise. When he could, he tried to speak.

"W - why?"

Ahri laughed. The sound was flattened by the steam, but still managed to convey her delight. "The Wheel turns."

"What — what the fuck does that —"

She stepped out of the shower and shook herself like a dog, spattering the mirror with drops of water. Then she waltzed out of the room, humming, leaving Talon alone.

He frowned, too tired to think about Wheels. His muscles ached, but he felt — satisfied. Clear headed.

The air was finally clear.

* * *

In other places, Summoners awakened and examined one another blearily. There were awkward laughs and blushes as clothing was reassembled, lost belongings found and returned, nudity covered. By nine in the morning, though the sky was still gray, life had returned to its normal pace. For the moment.

The Institute grew more hectic than usual as everyone slowly remembered the summertide banquet, the delegates. _That's today? _The question danced across more than a few pairs of lips.

Caitlyn — mysteriously returned to Jayce's bed, along with Vi — glanced at the clock and squeaked.

Vi groaned and rolled over. "Don't want bananas."

"I've got to get started on my hair!" Caitlyn sat up and dragged her fingers through her brown tresses, panting.

Jayce blinked and rubbed his face. He'd dreamt of golden eyes, laughing, shining with tears. Haunting him. He had five o'clock shadow, and his boxers had tiny hearts all over them. "Shit. Me too."

"Really?" Cait frowned.

"Fuck no." Jayce rolled back over onto his side and into sleep.

Cait huffed, shook her head, and began to mutter, "Bobby pins, bobby pins. Where the fuck are my bobby pins?"

In the Ionian Quarters, Karma stirred, then squeezed Yi's arm. A cooling breeze stirred the wooden windchimes in the open window. "You were wonderful."

He smiled sleepily and tweaked her nose. "It's all about balance."

And in the Supports' Quarters, Sona was rising slowly from a dream of Garamond. She firmly believed she occasionally made contact with his spirit. It felt so real — his hand encompassing hers, his whispered words. _You're always beautiful. _

She awoke and felt a brief pang of cold sadness when she remembered he was dead. Then she felt the rain-refreshed wind and remembered Ryland was very much alive.

_The Wheel turns, _she heard Garamond whisper. She didn't question it, but arose from bed and began her stretches.

Nami, too, half-awoke with Ryland in her thoughts. Then she remembered Ezreal and smiled sleepily, submerged in a lily-scented bathing pool. A storm of a boy. One she'd gotten to experience. If she ever returned to her tribe, she couldn't wait to tell the tale.

Soraka was already meditating beneath the silvery myth-tree. The red lanterns were unlit, but rustled together with the leaves. The stars painted on the dome of the roof overhead seemed to smile down at her.

She was deeply, deeply relieved that the tension was gone. Whatever had happened to Ryland — she wasn't sure she wanted to know — had been for the best.

Lux and Kat, lying together in Ezreal's bed, awoke simultaneously. Both were still cranky, for different reasons.

And in Ryland's room, Ryland and Ezreal slept. Ezreal's head was still nestled against Ryland's collarbone, Ryland's hand on the small of his back. Both of their faces were entirely relaxed. They remained like that until noon, long after everyone else had awoken.

As for the delegates — the Ionians arrived first, their chestnut mares high-stepping through the muddied cobblestone streets, their dragon embroidered robes shiny blue spots in the gloom. The Piltovers — just Ez's mentor Amahe and a few other academics in faded jeans — arrived moments afterwards. They were welcomed warmly by the few Summoners that weren't hungover. And Zandred.

The Venerable Summoner's face was beginning to ache from smiling, but it was genuine. Despite the rain and last night's debauchery, the air was fresh, the eyes of the delegates sparkling. Everything seemed to go smoothly as he shook their hands, then watched the Pilts and Ionians greet one another. Amahe even knew salutations in Ionian.

_Fantastic. _

He felt his smile dwindle when his fellow Zaunians arrived in a complex, red, menacing metal contraption, followed by powerless representatives from the Freljord on snowy white stallions. The two countries eyed one another strangely.

And his smile died a little more when the Noxians and Demacians arrived together. Every man — save Demetrius, still dozing — looked tense and irritable, the Willow-Doves scared. Erinae mysteriously appeared by Zandred's side and squeezed his hand.

"You got this," she said from the corner of her mouth.

"I do?"

"Yeh. Totes."

"I'll — I'll assume that means something positive." Still, even if not fully understood, her confidence instilled Zandred with some of his own. His smile resurfaced as he shook Jarvan III's hand, then Demetrius' when Caelyn finally awakened him.

_Perhaps I do indeed 'have this' after all. _

Luckily, the delegates were sheltered from the chaos surrounding thousands of people readying themselves. Easy political chatter floated through Central Fountain, which all the delegates agreed looked magnificent. The flags from every country flapped from the ceiling, multicolored banners.

They missed two Summoners coming to blows over a hairpin, insults lobbed against different cuts of suits, and so on. It was just as well.

* * *

After finally awakening, Ryland and Ezreal spent most of the day lounging around, communicating via their fully restored mental link, sharing their experiences. They both lingered on Cressida, confused.

_She was so different for you._ Ez paused as he clipped his toenails, bent in a catlike crouch. _All the women are. _

Ryland chuckled as he finger-combed his hair in the bathroom. _Not Kat. _His memories of Kat's rapiness mixed with Ezreal's, mingling in turn with the soothing rain. The drizzle made everything fresh, seem to sparkle.

Later, sprawled out on the bed, Ezreal hesitated, then leaned onto Ryland's chest. _We're cool, right? _

_Yep. _Ryland nuzzled his golden hair. It was damp and smelled of more of the Healer's pine soap. But Ryland had nuzzled him before. _We're cool. _

_Good. _

They finally began pulling on their suits about an hour before the banquet. Ryland tried not to laugh as Ez struggled with his long black socks, then his shoelaces.

"Here, just let me —"

"I can tie my own damn shoes, Ryland," Ez grumbled, but let Ryland tie them anyway. Then the Healer watched as Ez tied the hideous tie around his neck.

Ryland sighed heavily as he checked his black hair in the mirror one last time. "You're really going for it."

"Yep." Ez admired the smoothness of Ryland's movements as he knotted the black silk _Carandelli _in a perfect knot. "Practice?"

"Years of it. Brightbridge." They pinned their corsages on and took deep breaths. Neither one of them were particularly adept at handling people, especially not so many high ranking ones.

_Ready? _Ryland squeezed Ezreal's shoulder. It would be nice to get it over with.

_Yep, _Ezreal thought, feeling vaguely ill. _I'm ready. _

* * *

Even though the rain darkened the exterior of Central Fountain, the inside was radiant. Candles shaped like lotuses floated in fluted bowls of clear water. Silver and gold balloons dangled from every corner. The buffet was sumptuous and twenty tables long, boasting dishes from every country, from the well-done reindeer haunch of Freljord, to the spiced meat pies of Noxus, to the rice and camilliana blossoms of Ionia.

The delegates were upbeat and chatty, mingling freely with the rest of the population. And the Champions were exquisite. Riven's one-strapped, mint green dress brought out the deep rich color of her eyes, while Ashe's steel gray one emphasized the snowiness of her skin — a beautiful warrior, a feminine archer. Fortune and Ahri dazzled in twin black dresses, their curves lush beneath the clinging satin. Even Kog'Maw was spiffy in a white bowtie.

Jayce and Garen's well-tailored suits showed off their muscular builds — as did Vi's, with Cait tucked beneath her arm. The Sheriff's short dress was the wild, riotous pink of a desert rose. The Noxians in particular were captivated by her beauty.

And while Darius' hulking form looked a bit awkward standing by a punch bowl, Talon was rocking his formal wear, shifting from Summoner to gorgeous Noxian Summoner, hoping Katarina saw. But she and Luxanna were conspicuously absent.

The crowd grew thicker, the laughter louder, and the storm surged. Everywhere in the silvery half-light, jewels or eyes gleamed, dresses and hair shimmered. Even shy Demetrius Falin appeared to be having a good time, Caelyn leaning against his shoulder and surveying the room with eyes that were less feral than usual.

Zandred saw, with rising excitement, Jericho Swain and Jarvan III shake hands. The latter was wearing a smile.

_This is wonderful. _Relief flooded him. _Truly wonderful. _

Then he saw Ezreal and Ryland enter, trying to be unobtrusive. It didn't work. Cries of recognition echoed through the complex, followed by a rumble of thunder. Zandred watched as Ez cringed skittishly away, but Ryland's hand on his shoulders encouraged him to smile hesitantly and begin his greetings.

_Those two, _Zandred thought, and shook his head. _They worry me sometimes. _"All the time" was a better way of putting it, but Zandred was in a good enough mood to forget his troubles. He watched as Erinae took Caelyn's scarred hand and dragged him to the dance floor.

There was another pause as Lux and Kat appeared. Kat's smooth, form-fitting neon blue dress had a summery feel to it, punctuated by her casual sandals. But Lux's huge, impressive dress —

It was orange.

And it was undeniably orange, too, the burnt russet of autumn leaves, the hue of tangerines. Zandred watched Ez and Ryland glance own at their outfits, then back up at their girlfriends. Ryland smiled nervously. Ezreal gulped.

_What's the probl — Oh. Oh, that's the problem. _The Venerable Summoner bit back a groan and fought the urge to hide his face in his hands.

Neither couple matched. At all.

Ez could only stare. The orange was actually lovely on Lux. It brought out the warm blush on the apples of her cheeks, made her eyes seem preternaturally blue, like a lake, like crystal. But —

"What happened to your tie?" she whispered. Apparently Ryland hadn't been exaggerating. She looked horrified.

Ezreal laughed nervously. "Lux. It's — it's alright."

"No it isn't." She shook her head, her eyes transfixed by the tie's ugliness. "Not at all."

"It is. I prom —"

"I say" General Degardo boomed. "What's that boy's tie put you in mind of, your majesty Tryndamere? What better way to get to know one another than to learn our minds' associations?"

Tryndamere frowned in thought. "The Aurora spilling forth from the heavens. On an ugly night."

Degardo nodded. "And you, _Sensatori _Yi?"

Yi looked at Ez's tie, tried not to snicker and failed. Ezreal's face flushed as Karma hid a giggle behind her fan. "It is like the dragon floats from the parades at home. The ones the children make."

Degardo considered this. "I was going to say the swirls I see when I press my thumbs to my eyes." A ripple of laughter. "Or when I'm drunk." Louder laughter.

Ezreal blushed brighter, looked at how pale Lux's face was, and felt his entire body begin to burn. _I — I'm embarrassing her. Never mind me. _

"I was going to say confetti," Jarvan III volunteered, examining his blue-gray punch glass. Most of the crowd was staring openly at Ezreal now, including his mentor Amahe, who was slowly shaking his head, and Jayce, whose upper lip was curled in disgust. There were whispers and murmurs. "You know. Befitting the festive occasion."

"Reminds me of a grade schooler's craft project." "A bad drawing of a galaxy done by a blind artist." "Roses from hell's own garden."

Soon all of the delegates (save Demetrius, who watched sympathetically from behind the buffet) were roaring laughter, countries bonding over how ugly Ezreal's tie was. The Explorer heard Talon mutter "It looks like shit. That's what it looks like," and clenched his jaw.

Ryland held Katarina to his side and half-smiled. _Told you, Ez. _

His attention was pulled from Ezreal by Kat's surprisingly gentle kiss. "Did I mention I was sorry?" she asked, her lips against his ear. "Because I am."

"It's alright. I forgive you." He kissed her forehead and she smiled, ignoring Talon's look of jealousy and a few of the Generals' eyes shining with admiration for Ryland. Someone had tamed the wild one at last. "Just — no more tampering, alright?"

Kat nodded. "Mentally."

"Hm?"

"No more tampering mentally," she purred. Her hand caressed his chest. The tweaking of his dick was so fast he almost didn't catch it. "But physically? You're mine."

His words were cut off by another smoldering kiss. Per usual. He relaxed into it and began to stroke Kat's hair.

* * *

Ez couldn't handle it. The pressure, the laughter. He Arcane Shifted twice, to the edge of the crowd, and plummeted into the pouring rain. The thick gray clouds were a hazy orangey color. He didn't hear Lux's frantic footfalls as she chased after him, leaving the laughter behind. One of her black sandals came undone. She stumbled, fell, picked herself back up. The shoe lingered behind her, a monument.

"Wait!" The front of her gown was drenched more than the rest of her and spattered with mud. "Wait for me!"

Ez turned. His eyes widened as Lux grabbed his shoulders and kissed him. Rainwater slipped between their lips, both sweet and bitter. She pulled away, blue eyes searching his face. His irises were swirling with motes of gold.

"This is — it's all my fault, Ez."

"No. No, it's not." Ezreal pulled her to him, oblivious to her staining his suit, her messy hair. Unable to find words, he kissed her and felt warmth well in his chest. Then kissed her again. Her lips — there were no other that tasted as wonderful. And her breasts — none felt as good beneath his questing hands as hers.

He looked at her. In her muddy gown, right foot shoeless, hair limp with rain, eyes glittering with uncertainty —

"You're beautiful."

Like him earlier, she had no words. Her kisses were calming, steady. They were both soaked. Eventually, when lightning flickered overhead, Ez tugged on her, then lifted her into his arms. She gasped.

"Ez —"

"I've got this." He carried her and, though the heavy gown ate at his strength quickly, he felt wonderful. "I'm sorry for earlier, Lux."

"I'm sorry too." She curled her hand around the nape of his neck. She pressed her lips to his ear. "Sorry for — for intruding. Not trusting you."

"Sorry for being angry." He couldn't remember if he'd gotten noticeably angry, but if he had, he was sorry for it.

She was distracting him from thinking clearly. The rain had plastered her gown to her perfect breasts, the water glittering off her eyelashes. She was pale, but she was beautiful and she was his. No one else's.

He couldn't restrain himself. He kissed her when they entered the Supports' Quarters, beneath the gentle glow of the silver myth-tree. He lapped at her cold, rainwater-speckled lower lip, then covered her face with kisses, brushing the rain away.

They ended up on the plushy grass at the foot of the myth-tree, weighted down by pounds of soaked cloth. Her caresses, her kisses — her nimble fingers tugging at the thighs of his suit — were far more eager than usual. She wanted him like he wanted her. Messy, raw. Perfect.

He led her to his bedroom and locked the door, stripped out of his clothes, exposing his body to the chilly air. She traced him from head to toe. Her eyes grew dark with desire — no need for Ryland's sorcery this time. Just simple, untainted, primal lust.

And as Lux pulled the orange dress away — freed herself from the mudstained gown, freed her swan-white flesh, her peaked breasts and slim stomach — she smiled at him with shining blue eyes. And Ezreal knew.

The right dress was nothing at all.


	13. Author's Note

Greetings, dear readers! Thank you for reading to the end of my third completed _League of Legends _fanfic, _The Right Dress_. I hope you enjoyed the incredible romp as much as I did. This fic amounts to approximately 195 pages in Microsoft Word and was written in 38 days.

If you enjoyed this fic, check out **Drakkiron**'s _Ezreal: Welcome to the Institute of War_, another fantastic foray into exploring the Explorer's wild side.

If you enjoy Ezreal in general, I suggest you take a look at **Aloice**'s _And Light Be the Path to Home_. Remarkably less rape-tastic than _The Right Dress_, this fic explores the relationship between Luxanna and Ezreal on much deeper levels that transcend carnal lust and bickering. **Winkleson**'s story, while absent Ezreal, is also intriguing and captivating.

And though he hasn't released anything yet, be on the lookout for **Liched101**'s fanfic debut.

That's all for now! Back to work on _Ezreal: A True Champion. _


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